The Human skin.

Self image is everything. As much as it makes the person claiming this sound shallow, it unfortunatly seems to be the truth in our society. I am not one to admit to giving into the perils of our infintile culture, but the pressure is enormous. The pressure to be amazing is everywhere. The troubling thing is that it is not necessary to be an amazing person with a personality filled with substance and interest, no, our surroundings want us to be increadible physically.

Those that fail to meet the Kate Moss standard of the outward appearence seem to fall at the first hurdle. But if you ask me, why anyone would want to look like a stick insect junkie is beyond me...but you get my drift.

I am fat. (I can almost hear the gasps of people ready to say 'no no but your not at all,' and the pure shock on people's faces to dare to say such a thing and genuinly mean it. Ergh there is no point in beating around the bush. I know what i am and i am not one to lie as people hide too many things any way.)

There is no sympathy required in that statement and no marterdom intended, but i am aware of what i am and it saddens me. Those that fail to truely understand what i mean, because it requires compassion, will often say that being 'physically challenged' is not a problem and that i shouldnt worry so much about what others think. It also will coincide with the idea that if i cared that deeply about my physical appearence then all it takes is a little motivation to tone up. This is true, but it doesnt help to someone filled with self loathing and hatred developed from an age much younger than teen years.

I have beautiful friends. Friends that have no trouble finding men that flock to them. These friends are of course 'skinny minnies' and not as plump as me. I guess, yes, that is jelousy on my behalf. Childish and pathetic because they will constantly reassure me im beautiful too, but the problem is believing it myself. I look at them on nights out and i feel enraged with myself for envying them for being able to wear skirts and backless tops. Any way, the feeling of myself is never a good one on nights out. I avoid nightclubs because they are cattle markets where women parade about in teeny clothes and hooker heels while the men drool like labotomised chimps at them. Desperatly trying to ply them with any drink they possibly can in the hopes that they can get their leg over.

What i see in the mirror is a totally different story to how i should think. I am a good person. I have many good qualities but when i stand and look at myself i actually hear my inner monologue say: "Nice personality, shit exterior."

I dont need people to tell me i am fat and unattractive, (although people seem to revel in such delights because they themselves are inadiquate,) but i do know this. Even today while my mum was appling fake tan to my pasty white back...in an effort to make me feel better about myself i have resorted to the tango image... my mother decided to out of the blue say to me 'If you lost weight you'd have a beautiful shaped back.'
Yes shes probably right, but was that necessary from a woman that i already have a terrible relationship with. Was it a snide dig? One of her many that im now used to, even though not any more immune to. Or was it a terribly phrased compliment? Either way, the point was i still feel shit about my weight enough to react by sitting on my bed feeling slightly worse about myself.

I then proceeded to do 150 sit ups and numerous weights in my bedroom. Pathetic arent i!

Yes i am lazy, yes i do have 'curvy' genes that i swear Levi's dont advertise, but something inside of me prevents me from actually becomming proactive and getting slim...er.

Only the other month my dad asked me if i had an eating dissorder. By that he didnt mean am i projectile vomiting food from me every time i ate, but instead he was asking if i ate because i was emotionally troubled. Good old father for passing on his psychologist theories to me. Yes the simple fact is i do have an eating problem. I eat when im bored or depressed, but i mainly stuff myself because of the troubles ive had with men.

Lets just say, like everyone else who's ever encountered the opposite sex, i have had awful luck. One was abusive, the other i dumped for no real reason other than he didnt want to leave our home town, one i have been in love with for years has misstreated me and hurt me more times than i want to remember, and the other was sleeping with his ex gf while he was living with me.
In my crazy little skull i subconciously think that if i stay fat and men run off with other women and dont like me, then i can put it down to me being fat and unattractive, instead of me having a terrible personality. Its my fucked up way of rationalising whats happened to me over the years. All be it a little narsassistic as well because if i did have an awful personality, how could you ever correct that?? At least with an awful exterior, i would always be able to change that if so pushed.

There, so i have written down a little bit of crazy that my mind goes through every day. Inconsequential and very messy with a hint of, like i said before, narcassism. If anyone will ever read this and it wasnt written for you, but for myself. I cant keep regular diaries because my nosey mother always finds them. Years of hide and seek with alcohol has made her a pro at rummaging through things to find what she wants. But anyway, if anyone does/is reading this, im well aware that this is not life altering stuff and that this is not one of those blogs written down purely for sympathy. People's fake sympathy makes me sick. Its quite revolting to see when not from the heart. I also quite like the idea that other girls especially read this, and feel the same way but are too afraid to admit to it.