kiwifruit's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- An old friend comes to visit ... You know it�s easy to sound funny and flippant and charming when you�re in a good mood and life is going well. It�s so much easier to be humorously self-depreciating when the worst thing that is happening is you can�t afford that pair of Jimmy Choo boots you�ve really been lusting after. Or maybe your hair is super dry and your roots are showing. Or maybe you�ve even gained a few pounds and your new flab hangs over the edge of your super low waisted jeans. But when your life seems generally in the shitter (for real) it isn�t so funny. Seriously, I�m hoping what I�m suffering is just an oozy of a case of PMS and not some deep seated depression. The novelty of being unemployed is waning. Hell, it�s pretty much disappeared. Instead of trying to keep busy 24/7 I am finding myself at home curled up on the couch with the curtains drawn watching Jerry Springer (never in it�s entirety I�ll have you know � still some sense left). The gym is the highlight of my day and then I come home and send out resumes to places I know in all likelihood will never hire me. And then I fester, and then I pace, and then I get back on the couch or maybe I�ll even take a nap. It�s only been like this for the past few days, up until then I was doing pretty well. But now reality has hit me and when I looked at my bank balance today I realized that pretty soon the shit was really going to hit the fan. Shit. This reality crap is no fun at all. I am such a master of avoidance I really resent actually having to deal with anything. And usually this works pretty well for me. I�ll be the first to admit that I am a pretty lucky soul; things usually go my way in the end. And so I have two days of yuck and I fall apart. I am like a vampire exposed to light � I cry and scream and squirm around. But it�s a little more complicated than all that because the most maddening thing is that I have control over how I feel. I know I�ll be fine. I know I�m not going to be homeless or starve to death, hell, I probably won�t even suffer that much. It�s not like C. is going to throw me out on the streets (though it never feels good to not be able to pay your half of the rent). Kinda makes the independent woman in ya bristle a little. So really it�s time to pull myself up out of my little hole. Get out there and deal. Yeah, just deal. Ugh. Let me have another glass of wine first, and a cigarette, though I promise I will stay away from the goddamn peanut M&Ms from now on. That�s always the icing on the cake. Yeah, it�s the eating thing. When my life gets rough I start to diddle with food again. And it�s not a pretty sight. It�s not even interesting anymore. Fat. Skinny. Fat. Skinny. And nothing in between. I�m not gonna crawl into bed or the closet or whatever hiding place I can find and hang out with my old pals eating and disorder again. I�m so predictable it makes me want to cry. See? This is what happens when I�m left to my own devices. C. is at the Yankees game and I�m obsessing about food and the size of my ass because the other stuff seems far too daunting. I�m obsessing about belly rolls � as if there is nothing else going on in this world, in my life, that I can find to worry about. How gross is that? Okay, I�m gonna go kick myself in the ass now. 10:13 p.m. - 2001-10-31 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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