How can it be five o'clock and all I've eaten is handful of M and Ms? All I've had to drink is a glass of Pepsi? The only time I exited my room for more than three minutes was to hang out laundry?
I assumed I was having an alright day until now. I've spent the entire day in bed, barely eating, sleeping or even functioning. The only reason I'm considering leaving my room now is because I know I need the exercise. Seriously, even Hilary thinks I look overweight and I have to wear full uniform at the next meeting. Bruce Kidney's coming too so I have to look decent.
Why can't I be thin and pretty like everybody else? Instead, I'm a pale freak who is hidden away in her own personal dungeon and refusing to leave. The only time I ever leave is when I have school or St John. I'm a loser with no life.
Really the only thing I have going for me is, as Ben puts them, my Cleaveye of Death. And they're hopeless. You don't get people to really like you by being a trashy whore. My hair is easily dealt with but it's too short to do anything pretty with. My legs are strong but they're too muscular from my days in footy. I have too much flesh around my abdomen. I'm not lean. My hips stick out too far. My shoulders are to broad. I can't wear a boob tube because of my cleaveye. They make the material sit too far away from my stomach and then I look pregnant.
No comments:
Post a Comment