I am finding it more difficult than ever to fit in my own skin.
I'm not sure what caused this, but recently, I find my image disgusting. I'm probably about 105lbs now, but none of it is muscle. I have stretch marks all over from when I was a kid and I got fat. My skin is the color of elmer's glue. I hate my fucking smile. I hate my hair, I hate my fingers, I hate my nose, I hate everything.
I don't know what to do about it. Sure, I can burn twice as many calories as I take in...I can avoid taking in any at all. That's not going to help me get better, though. It won't do anything to make my hair grow, or get rid of the snarl that appears on my face every time I try to smile.
For once, I don't feel disgusting because I know I'm fucked up on the inside. This time, it's purely superficial and I'm not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing.
There's this woman, this foreign trophy wife who comes into my store sometimes. She's totally fake--long, blonde extensions, huge boobs, a perfect ass, good lips, good nose, all that shit. She's always been very nice to me. All my coworkers make fun of her because she's fucking plastic, but every time I see her, I get sad because I want to look like her.
Anyway, since I am in the business of getting better, I need to find a way to change what I'm seeing now. I mean, I'm not massive, so why do I feel like I am? A good friend of mine told me that my perspective has to change in order for me to feel better about myself, but I'm not quite sure how to do that. Is it a repetition thing--like repeating to myself when I look in the mirror that I'm fine the way I am? Is it one of those deals where you slap yourself on the wrist when you find yourself thinking that you're ugly? I don't know.
Something's gotta give, though, because I can't do this to myself again. I destroyed myself last time, and I'm pretty sure I'm trying to stop that.
This was a dumb post, I know. I sound like such a high-school anorexic. "Wah, Wah, Wah. I'm all ugly and fat, woe is me, I'm gonna go puke in the toilet now and then pick on some math geeks." This is, however, my blog and I'll put in here what's on my mind. (This is what's on my mind, if you missed that the first time.)
I found Pumas for $40.00 yesterday. Can you say 'score'? I sure did!
Hang on,
Ness
Thursday 26 May 2011
Friday 20 May 2011
Eat, Drink, and Be Merry...
...for tomorrow, apparently, we're all getting raptured.
That's a total load of horse shit. Just thought you all should know.
Anyway, it has been two months to the day since The Day I Was Supposed To Die. This has been the best two months of my life so far, and I'm thrilled that I'm here to have lived them.
I know this isn't important, but I'm recapping for my own benefit the events of the past two months. Btw, 'recap' comes from the word 'recapitulation'. It's a term used in music. No one knows that except us.
Let's see. Over the past two months, I have stopped cutting myself. This is good. I haven't really felt the need to, which means I'm getting better.
I have stopped hating myself as much as I used to. In fact, I am beginning to like myself a little bit.
I have acquired a spifftacular boyfriend. No explanation needed: just know he's a good kid.
I started singing lessons on Thursday. This is a good fucking plan, I think.
I've resurrected my music endeavors.
I dropped off my first (shitty) demo cd.
I learned to use a lawnmower that ISN'T a tractor.
I saw a Ferrari in my drive-through.
I figured out how to get through the day without wanting to die.
I started and maintained a blog.
I was around for 61 sunrises and 61 sunsets.
I survived. No...I lived.
There's a lot more, but I can't really remember it all right now. I'm too tired.
Goodnight, world.
Hang on,
Ness
That's a total load of horse shit. Just thought you all should know.
Anyway, it has been two months to the day since The Day I Was Supposed To Die. This has been the best two months of my life so far, and I'm thrilled that I'm here to have lived them.
I know this isn't important, but I'm recapping for my own benefit the events of the past two months. Btw, 'recap' comes from the word 'recapitulation'. It's a term used in music. No one knows that except us.
Let's see. Over the past two months, I have stopped cutting myself. This is good. I haven't really felt the need to, which means I'm getting better.
I have stopped hating myself as much as I used to. In fact, I am beginning to like myself a little bit.
I have acquired a spifftacular boyfriend. No explanation needed: just know he's a good kid.
I started singing lessons on Thursday. This is a good fucking plan, I think.
I've resurrected my music endeavors.
I dropped off my first (shitty) demo cd.
I learned to use a lawnmower that ISN'T a tractor.
I saw a Ferrari in my drive-through.
I figured out how to get through the day without wanting to die.
I started and maintained a blog.
I was around for 61 sunrises and 61 sunsets.
I survived. No...I lived.
There's a lot more, but I can't really remember it all right now. I'm too tired.
Goodnight, world.
Hang on,
Ness
Thursday 12 May 2011
Be Somebody
"With one hand high, you'll show them your progress. You'll take your time, but no one cares."
I've always felt like a bottom-of-the-barrel type of person. I've always been the last one picked, the one with nowhere to sit at lunchtime, the one nobody cared enough about to hate but nobody liked enough to leave alone when they ran out of cannon-fodder in their cliques. I don't fit in with the smart people, the hipsters, the athletes, the emos, the goths, the artsy-people, the preppy people, the happy people, the sad people, the fat people, the perfect people, or the 'normal' people. I can interact with all of them, I have chameleonism down to a science, but I don't fit and I know it.
The reason for this? I'm not sure. It seems like no matter what I wear or how much weight I've lost (I was a fat kid) or whether I ditch the glasses or how my makeup looks or what I do to my hair or how much I talk or don't talk or even what I say, it's still not right. Even among my own friends, I don't completely fit. Maybe everybody feels like this.
Anyway, the only time growing up when most people would listen to me, or talk to me, or bother to even notice me, was right after a performance. I may have been a mousy-haired nobody with glasses and braces and zits and about 4,257 extra lbs, but as soon as I opened my mouth to sing, I became SOMEBODY. And then EVERYBODY cared.
That's not to say that nobody ever in my entire life cared about me...my family did, and I had a few friends, and I had this one music teacher who really went out of her way to teach me all sorts of stuff, and random people in random places were all there for me too. And those people I want to thank profusely. Nothing you've done has been taken for granted. All is remembered and treasured.
The reason for this blog post is because I still feel like nobody. I'm still bottom-of-the-barrel and I know it. I'm still the last one picked sometimes, I'm still forgotten about sometimes. But over the years, I have become so much. I SURVIVED. I'm getting better. I'm fighting my battles instead of running away. I have become so much more than even I thought I would, and you know what? I'm proud of that. And even if nobody cares what's going on in my little world, and even if all my friends go to the bar without me, and even if I travel across 2 states to see somebody and she spends the whole time talking to somebody else, and even if I'm the last one told when something important happens or if they forget to even tell me at all, it's ok. Because I know that somewhere in me is SOMEBODY. And whether or not anybody cares about that fact doesn't matter. I'll just sing until everybody knows it.
The quote at the beginning of this song is from 'My Sundown' by Jimmy Eat World. Look that song up too.
Also: I sang a fucking opera song in Italian. I don't even know Italian, and I've never sang opera before. Aaand I'm getting voice lessons. You all just look for me when I'm famous.
Hang on,
Ness
I've always felt like a bottom-of-the-barrel type of person. I've always been the last one picked, the one with nowhere to sit at lunchtime, the one nobody cared enough about to hate but nobody liked enough to leave alone when they ran out of cannon-fodder in their cliques. I don't fit in with the smart people, the hipsters, the athletes, the emos, the goths, the artsy-people, the preppy people, the happy people, the sad people, the fat people, the perfect people, or the 'normal' people. I can interact with all of them, I have chameleonism down to a science, but I don't fit and I know it.
The reason for this? I'm not sure. It seems like no matter what I wear or how much weight I've lost (I was a fat kid) or whether I ditch the glasses or how my makeup looks or what I do to my hair or how much I talk or don't talk or even what I say, it's still not right. Even among my own friends, I don't completely fit. Maybe everybody feels like this.
Anyway, the only time growing up when most people would listen to me, or talk to me, or bother to even notice me, was right after a performance. I may have been a mousy-haired nobody with glasses and braces and zits and about 4,257 extra lbs, but as soon as I opened my mouth to sing, I became SOMEBODY. And then EVERYBODY cared.
That's not to say that nobody ever in my entire life cared about me...my family did, and I had a few friends, and I had this one music teacher who really went out of her way to teach me all sorts of stuff, and random people in random places were all there for me too. And those people I want to thank profusely. Nothing you've done has been taken for granted. All is remembered and treasured.
The reason for this blog post is because I still feel like nobody. I'm still bottom-of-the-barrel and I know it. I'm still the last one picked sometimes, I'm still forgotten about sometimes. But over the years, I have become so much. I SURVIVED. I'm getting better. I'm fighting my battles instead of running away. I have become so much more than even I thought I would, and you know what? I'm proud of that. And even if nobody cares what's going on in my little world, and even if all my friends go to the bar without me, and even if I travel across 2 states to see somebody and she spends the whole time talking to somebody else, and even if I'm the last one told when something important happens or if they forget to even tell me at all, it's ok. Because I know that somewhere in me is SOMEBODY. And whether or not anybody cares about that fact doesn't matter. I'll just sing until everybody knows it.
The quote at the beginning of this song is from 'My Sundown' by Jimmy Eat World. Look that song up too.
Also: I sang a fucking opera song in Italian. I don't even know Italian, and I've never sang opera before. Aaand I'm getting voice lessons. You all just look for me when I'm famous.
Hang on,
Ness
Tuesday 3 May 2011
Fuckin' Perfect
Another song on my playlist of Random Shit That Makes Me Feel Better is Pink's 'Fuckin' Perfect'.
I'll post the lyrics at the end of all this, but the general idea is that even though you've fucked up, you're still 'fucking perfect to me'. This is epic, people. Epic.
I'm currently hovering around 103lbs and fighting on-and-off anorexia. I'm not sure what you'd call that. Anyway, this whole thing started when I lost control of my life and needed to have a handle on something. So I decided that I was going to control my image. At one point, if I had to eat something one day to appease somebody, I'd work off 150% of my total caloric intake. I could see all of my ribs and all of my vertebrae and I loved it.
Another fantastic thing about starving myself to control things was that it allowed me to punish myself at the same time. I was addicted to hurting myself for a really long time. I'd cut myself, force myself to not sleep, and now starve myself because this was punishment for every bad thing I'd ever done, said, or thought. Hell, I still fucking kick myself for things I did when I was like 4. It's not right, but that's the way things are.
Anyway, I've done a lot of shit in my time. Alot of weird, fucked up shit that has hurt me and other people. But that's the past. I'm trying to get better now. I'm having trouble getting back to eating normally, but I'll get there. The point is this: we're all human, we all make fucked up mistakes. But just so long as we're trying, we're fucking perfect. And we're gonna be fucking ok.
Pink- Fuckin' Perfect
Made a wrong turn
Once or twice
Dug my way out
Blood and fire
Bad decisions
That's alright
Welcome to my silly life
Mistreated
Misplaced
Misunderstood
Miss knowing it's all good
It didnt slow me down.
Mistaking
Always second guessing
Underestimating
Look I'm still around
Pretty, pretty please
Dont you ever, ever feel
Like you're less than
Fucking perfect
Pretty, pretty please
If you ever, ever feel
Like you're nothing
You're fucking perfect to me
You're so mean
When you talk
About yourself, you were wrong
Change the voices in your head
Make them like you instead
So complicated
Look how we all make it
Filled with so much hatred
Such a tired game
It's enough
I've done all I can think of
Chased down all my demons
I've seen you do the same
Pretty, pretty please
Dont you ever, ever feel
Like you're less than
Fucking perfect
Pretty, pretty please
If you ever, ever feel
Like you're nothing
You're fucking perfect to me
The whole worlds scared
So I swallow the fear
The only thing I should be drinking
Is an ice cold beer
So cool in line
And we try, try, try
But we try too hard
And it's a waste of my time
Done looking for the critics
Cause they're everywhere
They don't like my jeans
They don't get my hair
Exchange ourselves
And we do it all the time
Why do we do that?
Why do I do that?
Why do I do that?
Pretty, pretty please
Dont you ever feel
Like you're less than
Fucking perfect
Pretty, pretty please
If you ever, ever feel
Like you're nothing
You're fucking perfect to me
You're perfect, you're perfect
Pretty, pretty please
If you ever, ever feel
Like you're nothing
You're fucking perfect to me
Hang on,
Ness
I'll post the lyrics at the end of all this, but the general idea is that even though you've fucked up, you're still 'fucking perfect to me'. This is epic, people. Epic.
I'm currently hovering around 103lbs and fighting on-and-off anorexia. I'm not sure what you'd call that. Anyway, this whole thing started when I lost control of my life and needed to have a handle on something. So I decided that I was going to control my image. At one point, if I had to eat something one day to appease somebody, I'd work off 150% of my total caloric intake. I could see all of my ribs and all of my vertebrae and I loved it.
Another fantastic thing about starving myself to control things was that it allowed me to punish myself at the same time. I was addicted to hurting myself for a really long time. I'd cut myself, force myself to not sleep, and now starve myself because this was punishment for every bad thing I'd ever done, said, or thought. Hell, I still fucking kick myself for things I did when I was like 4. It's not right, but that's the way things are.
Anyway, I've done a lot of shit in my time. Alot of weird, fucked up shit that has hurt me and other people. But that's the past. I'm trying to get better now. I'm having trouble getting back to eating normally, but I'll get there. The point is this: we're all human, we all make fucked up mistakes. But just so long as we're trying, we're fucking perfect. And we're gonna be fucking ok.
Pink- Fuckin' Perfect
Made a wrong turn
Once or twice
Dug my way out
Blood and fire
Bad decisions
That's alright
Welcome to my silly life
Mistreated
Misplaced
Misunderstood
Miss knowing it's all good
It didnt slow me down.
Mistaking
Always second guessing
Underestimating
Look I'm still around
Pretty, pretty please
Dont you ever, ever feel
Like you're less than
Fucking perfect
Pretty, pretty please
If you ever, ever feel
Like you're nothing
You're fucking perfect to me
You're so mean
When you talk
About yourself, you were wrong
Change the voices in your head
Make them like you instead
So complicated
Look how we all make it
Filled with so much hatred
Such a tired game
It's enough
I've done all I can think of
Chased down all my demons
I've seen you do the same
Pretty, pretty please
Dont you ever, ever feel
Like you're less than
Fucking perfect
Pretty, pretty please
If you ever, ever feel
Like you're nothing
You're fucking perfect to me
The whole worlds scared
So I swallow the fear
The only thing I should be drinking
Is an ice cold beer
So cool in line
And we try, try, try
But we try too hard
And it's a waste of my time
Done looking for the critics
Cause they're everywhere
They don't like my jeans
They don't get my hair
Exchange ourselves
And we do it all the time
Why do we do that?
Why do I do that?
Why do I do that?
Pretty, pretty please
Dont you ever feel
Like you're less than
Fucking perfect
Pretty, pretty please
If you ever, ever feel
Like you're nothing
You're fucking perfect to me
You're perfect, you're perfect
Pretty, pretty please
If you ever, ever feel
Like you're nothing
You're fucking perfect to me
Hang on,
Ness
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)