Be aware of my thoughts. That's what I'm supposed to do. What we hear when we're children is absorbed like water into a sponge. As a child, I heard I was fat, and I knew that no one liked me, so my brain equated being thin with being loved. And even though I am currently aware of this and realize that it is illogical, it's been so deeply engrained in me that I have to retrain my brain to believe something different. So the psychiatrist says, "Be aware of your thoughts" and try to stop them. She says I have a bit of body dysmorphic disorder. She says I look great. I showed her the big roll of fat on my stomach but she ignored it. I told her that I can't have dysmorphia if the fat is actually there, but regardless of the fat being there, I want to stop obsessing about it. She says "be aware of your thoughts". I would prefer a quicker fix than hours of therapy and being aware of my thoughts. What about hypnosis? Isn't there something I can do that won't take a long time? I'm tired of this shit. I am so tired of making everyone's life miserable with my constant, "I'm fat" ramblings. No one cares, no one agrees with me, and people resent feeling like they have to tell me I look good when they know I'll just keep saying I'm fat. I don't want people to be annoyed or resentful of me. I don't want people to dislike being around me. I guess I'm more likeable as a fat person with good self-esteem than I fat person with low self-esteem. Surprise! So I just have to accept the giant roll of fat on my stomach and not let it bother me. That just seems impossible. I guess I can at least start with not saying anything out loud. Maybe if I internalize the self-hatred, people won't resent me. God, this is just such bullshit. If only I could just lose the fat, then I wouldn't even have to worry about any of this, because when I'm thin, I know it, and when I know I'm thin, I don't complain about being fat. Therapists assume that it's something I complain about and see in myself no matter how much I weigh or how I look in the mirror, but the reality is that when I am thin, I know it, and I feel better about myself. I don't complain about being fat when I'm not fat. I guess the problem is that my standards for myself are higher than other people's. For me, I need to be in between a size 0 and 2 to feel like I'm thin. For other people, they think I am thin now. However, I am a size 4 now, and this is too big for me. I am a small person, only five foot two and three quarters. I have small bones and a small frame, and I don't need to be 123 pounds. It's too much for me. I should be 115 at maximum. I would prefer to be 110. I think this is reasonable. I'm not trying to be a skeleton, I've been anorexic and don't want to go back there. I like food. I don't want to look like a teenager. I just want to be height/weight proportionate...on the lower end of height/weight proportionate.If you look at the height/weight chart for someone who is five foot two with a small frame, they should weigh in between 108 and 121 pounds. So, I technically am two pounds over weight. And all I want is to be on the lower end of that chart. I don't want to be underweight. And you can ask anyone who knows me - when I'm at my ideal weight, I don't complain about being fat. Does my life get any better when I'm thinner? No, not really. Do I expect it to? No, not really. But it's certainly nice to be able to take my mind off my gut and start focusing on other things, so I guess there is a slight upswing in my quality of life when I am thin. However, there is the burden of trying to maintain that weight, and the fear that one taste of sugar will send me into the downward spiral of cheesecake-induced insanity. But you have to understand, I've spent most of my life as a cute girl, one who gets a lot of attention and double-takes from boys, and, while it may not be as epic as winning a Nobel Peace Prize, it still feels good. It feels great, actually, to be desired, to be "hot". And as I get older, I know that will continue to fade away and I will have to rely on my charm and quick wit to woo others, it's still painfully difficult to let go and let the younger girls have their moment in the spotlight. Like EP (aka Hot Girl), there's this one photograph of us together, and she just looks so radiant and shiny, full of life, almost glowing. And there was me, next to her, pale (literally) in comparison. I look okay, not terrible or anything, but certainly not glowing or shiny. I look dull, lifeless, like limp hair. That's age. EP doesn't tan, doesn't get her hair done, doesn't get her nails done, doesn't do any of the maintenance that I do to stay looking cute, yet she looks amazing next to me. So, shit, I've gotta stay on top of my game. Gotta get that tummy tight, gotta whiten those teeth and bleach that hair. I'm not ready to give up yet. And yet, no matter how thin and pretty I am, I still have no friends. I have one guy who loves me, and I love him, too, but I always wonder why he loves me and when he's going to leave. Sometimes I look at him and think, fuck...this guy is so gorgeous, in such good shape, he looks like a damn Abercrombie & Fitch model. He gets checked out by gay guys everywhere we go (so you know he's hot, because whether a man is gay or straight, you can count on him being superficial and attracted to beautiful things), so what does he see in me? I guess I'm pretty funny. And smart. An airhead, but smart, nonetheless. And he thinks I'm cute. Beautiful, sometimes. So I need to just accept that he loves me, believe that he wants to be with me and that he's not going anywhere (like he says). But I know he doesn't want a fat girl. He hates fat, especially on girls. He wouldn't be able to get a hard-on for a fat girl. So I have to at least stay thin for HAM. If not for the rest of the world, then at least for HAM. So anyway, I'm rambling, it must be time to stop, but the real point of all of this is that I need to be aware of my thoughts and stop them when they are negative because I am pretty awesome, and would be more awesome if I would shut the fuck up about my weight.

I haven't written much in a while. I was on vacation and then of course when I returned to work this week, there was a shit ton of shit to catch up on. HAM is still out of school, so he and I have been spending a lot of time together in the evenings, and, well, the writing gets the back burner I guess. But I haven't forgotten about it and have no intention of giving up. I guess I just took a vacation from everything for a while. Our road trip was eye-opening. We've decided that America is too stupid, too fat, and too meth-addicted to live here. We officially have a plan to move to France. We don't have a plan, actually, but we officially have plans to make a plan. One thing on the agenda is learning French. HAM can use his electives to take French at BC and I can take the classes with him (although I will have to pay full tuition). I want to assimilate into French culture. I don't want to be an American anymore. I am OK with giving up my citizenship here - this place is fucked. The way we treat our animals, our environment, our sick and our poor, the way we treat the world - we are fucked. Any entity that goes on for as long as this one treating the rest of the planet like garbage can't last. Rome fell, America will fall, too. I don't trust this place, I don't trust the government, I don't respect the government, and I'm tired of being in debt because I can't pay my coinsurance. Having insurance is probably the most expensive mistake I've ever made, because it gives you the illusion that you can afford healthcare, when in reality, you get raped in the ass at every turn with lab fees, coinsurance, deductibles, and monthly fees. I can't take it anymore. I'd rather be slowly, gently fucked over time with super high taxes than walk around thinking I'm safe and all of a sudden get raped in the ass with a $400 medical bill that I wasn't expecting. And Obama probably won't get reelected, not that it really matters anyway. Although, it could be worse. I've seen it. We could still be in the Bush years. I miss Clinton. Maybe he was a little dirty, and he did sign NAFTA into effect, which helped degredate the environment and force already suffering third-world countries into even more destitute conditions, but damn, at least we had jobs then. At least we had Al Gore. Now we have no one looking out for the environment, or education, or the future of this country. America is slippin' hard and I don't have any more good reasons to stay. I want to live where animals are treated with dignity and respect, where people are given healthcare as a right and not as privelage, where people are laid back about nudity and sex, where it's okay to enjoy wine and bread, yet not overindulge to the point of addiction and obesity, where being cultured and intelligent is still a good thing, and god damn, I want some of that mediterranean sun.

Well, of course, I overreacted about the wood. After going to Home Depot and Lowe's and not having any luck, I decided to just email my dad a confession. He assured me it was not that big a deal, that he had plenty more wood and stain for the wood, and that it could probably just be sanded out anyway. And I could breath again. Ahhhh.

Today I got my hair bleached lighter. I am seriously blonde now. I have this thing online called Mint that uploads all of my financial accounts and separated my spending, etc. into categories. It turns out I spend more money on my hair than I spend on food. Jesus! I guess my hair is to me like shoes are to most girls. Even when you're feeling fat and there aren't any clothes that fit, buy a new pair of shoes and all is well. For me, I really don't care for shoe shopping. I would go barefoot if I could. But my hair - I would go to the salon every week if I could afford it. I love how it looks when I leave the salon, so smooth and healthy, no dark roots, every strand in place, shiny, pretty, perfect. I do a pretty decent job with my hair, but nothing beats the work of a professional. In the past, before I could afford the salon, I dyed my hair every possible color. Every time something terrible happened, I would dye my hair. Every time I broke up with a guy, or if I had really awful PMS, I would dye my hair. After I left E and was living in the domestic violence shelter, I cut off my dreadlocks. Then I went on a platinum blonde crusade, stealing bleach and developer from beauty supply stores once a week in an attempt to get my hair to look like Marilyn Monroe's. It probably started when my Mom bleached my hair for the first time when I was 12. I don't remember if any tragic incident occurred before she did it, but I wouldn't be surprised, as the year 12 was a rather hellish year for me. We were living in these disgusting condos, Bellevue Manor, on 148th. It was the ghetto of Bellevue. Still is, in fact. My mom was in a relationship with TM, the biggest, fattest, loudest, most disgusting Italian jerk-off on the planet. His teenager daughter moved in with us, too. She was a crackwhore...no seriously...she was a 15 year old whore. I'm not positive if it was crack that she was after, or just the love and attention that her father never gave her, but whatever her reasons, she was selling her body. TM was horrible to me. He wouldn't let me talk on the phone. We had one phone line in the condo and in the living room, a little red light would turn on on the phone console whenever someone picked up the phone in any room. So if I picked up the phone in my bedroom, TM would see the light, storm in, and make me hang up. He wouldn't let me open the refridgerator. I would walk into the kitchen, reach out for the fridge door, and he would yell from his throne on the couch in front of the TV to back away from the door. When I would get home from school, I liked to watch TV for a while, but when he got home from work, he would tear into the living room, sit down on the couch practically on top of me, grab the remote out of my hand, and change the channel as if I did not exist. One time I came out of the shower with a towel wrapped around me (my bedroom was right next to the bathroom) and he came after me, screaming about something (I don't remember what), grabbed me the neck, and pushed me up against the wall in my bedroom. He was actually holding me up by my neck so my feet her dangling. My towel started to fall off, but he didn't care. He was up in face, screaming at me and I was terrified of this asshole. He was the most controlling jerk I'd ever known up to that point in my life. He was fat and he let his bodily functions fly whenever he felt like it. He yelled and swore all the time. He had road rage before there was a name for road rage. But my mom loved him for some reason, no matter how fucked up his kids were (his son was no better- in and out of jail and rehab and only 19 years old), and no matter how abusive he was towards me. So, I don't know, maybe in my mind, dying my hair is a way to escape pain? Maybe that's taking something superficial a bit too far, but I think there is some truth to it. She would also do things like take me shopping at Ross (Ross was third in my highest spending categories on Mint), and she would buy sweets and we would indulge together. She would buy 2 lb bags of peanut butter M&M's, or an entire cake, or a box of cookies and some ice cream. There were always sweets around, but especially if I was going through a hard time. Sweets were one the ways she helped me to feel better. And today, my three biggest spending categories are hair, food, and Ross. If I include all stores, not just Ross, shopping is the highest category I have. Five times that of hair. So I am addicted to dying my hair, shopping, and sweets. Big surprise. Mystery solved. But even if I am aware of the root of my compulsions, it doesn't stop them. I still want chocolate. I still want to be blonde. I still want a new pair of jeans. I wure would love a way to stop feeling like I need these things. I know I'm a shopping addict. I shop like I'm made of money, even though I only work part time and I am in major debt. It's actually really out of control. But I just want to spend. Sometimes it's not even the spending, just the shopping. The hours spent wandering around a store, picking things out, trying them on, making a decision. Half the time I don't even buy anything, even after spending hours in a store. There's something trance-like, meditative, about shopping. It's soothing and mind-numbing. Everything else just fades away, like how it would for a gambling addict when they're shoving quarter after quarter into a slot machine. The only time I come back to reality when I'm shopping is when I'm in the dressing room and i have to face how fat I actually am. Like today, for instance. I was wandering through Ross and I found some cuter jeans. I went to try them on and I could barely pull them up over my fat legs. They were glued to me, and they were a size 5! It's repulsive. It wouldn't be so bad if my stomach wasn't a bowl of Jello. I wouldn't mind being a size 5 if I had a nice, tight stomach but just had a big fat ass. A fat ass is fine if the rest of you is tight. Look at Kim Kardashian. She's made millions off that fat ass. But she has a small waist. That's key. My waist is soft and it has no definition. It has become grotesque. It makes me so sad because my waist used to be rock hard. You could see the muscles rippling through my skin. I looked HOT in a bikini. And this was only last summer. Now, it's Jello. Even though my stomach is still extremely strong, possibly more so than a year ago, you can't tell because of the fucking layer of fat covering it. I just wish I could get a handle on what I put inside my body. It's like, ridiculous because I can cut out meat no problem, eggs no problem, dairy no problem, soy only a slight problem, but for some reason sugar just has a hold on me. And sugar is the number one thing that makes people fat. Why can't I just let it go and stick to it? Why does it always creep back in, practically hours after I commit to giving it up. I just can't stop. I feel totally powerless over my cravings for sugar. Will I ever be normal? Will I ever be non-addicted? I feel like, even if I'm not drinking, drugging, or smoking cigarettes, my brain always attaches itself to something, clings to it and will not let go. How do people free themselves from addictions? I am tired of being ruled by outside sources, things that can never make me happy long-term, only fill a void temporarily, because the void always reappears. It opens back up almost instantly after the damage is done. All that money spent, all those calories ingested, and for what? I don't feel any better. I'm fatter and I have less money. That wouldn't make anyone feel good. I want to treat myself, my body, my money, my future, with respect and love. I want to save money and eat healthily. I want to stop this insanity because that's exactly what is is: doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. It will never happen. Blonde hair won't make me happy, chocolate won't make me happy, a cheap shirt that I won't even like in two weeks won't make me happy. It's no wonder I have piles and piles of clothes but nothing to wear. What would make me happy is a flat stomach and a savings account full of money. I don't mean that in the superficial way, either, I mean it in the sense that if I have a flat stomach, it's because I'm taking care of my body, and if I have a full savings account, it's because I'm taking care of my financial future. I want to be someone who treats themselves with that kind of love and respect. That's what would make me happy - being congruent with my beliefs. Being vegan is a fantastic start, but I still have a long way to go. I mean, let's be real, here: bleach is NOT vegan.

Shit, I haven't written much this week. And it's not because I don't have anything to say, it's just that HAM is on his break so we're together more, and my boss has given me several projects at work so I haven't had time. I am sad to report that I am once again experiencing allergic reactions to foods. So far the two culprits are dairy and soy. I already cut out dairy and since then my eyelid has stopped twitching, but when I cut out dairy, my soy consumption increased, and now I have been breaking out in hives on my arms and chest. So I am cutting out soy again, too. It's okay, I've done it before, and before I also had cut out gluten, so this won't be nearly as bad. There are a lot more soy alternative, meat alternative "meat" products available now, such as Quorn, and this other veggie patty I found that's really yummy (and gluten free, too). Plus, there are a lot of protein/energy bars that are raw, vegan, and soy free. My new fav is Lydia's Organics Cacao Crunch Bar. While it is more difficult to eat this way because my choices are a bit more limited, I actually consider it a blessing in a way. It's my body's way of telling me to get it together and pay attention to my health. I mean, you can't have any more obvious symptoms than eyelid twitching and hives. It's plain as day that I have to give up these mass-produced, Monsanto bred, hormone filled trash that's only hurting my body and truly crushing my spirit. I've definitely noticed a decine in my attitude and happiness when I eat soy on a daily basis, not to mention the bloating and weight gain around my stomach. And dairy? Shit, dairy is basically glue. I don't know anyone who would willingly ingest glue, but when you eat dairy, that's basically what you're doing. I just don't need it in my body or in my life. My quality of life is not damaged by my lack of cheesecake or ice cream. And my soy consumption consists mainly of my triple medium soy latte in the morning, which, this morning I replaced with almond milk and it's fine. Not as good as soy, but it's fine, and I'll get used to it. I'm happy to have to readjust my diet towards more healthful choices. I've been eating steamed vegetables of every color every night, along with a potato (sweet potatoes usually, but the other night we had these amazing dark purple potatoes). I usually have salad or lentils and grilled veggies at lunch, and oatmeal with walnuts and half a banana for breakfast. I've cut out eggs, too. So I guess I'm a vegan now. I was a vegan once many years ago, but I was still drinking and smoking then, so I don't think it was as effective to me personally (although it was still better for animals and the environment). Now, I don't drink, don't smoke, don't do drugs, I exercise regularly, and I'm vegan! I'm fucking happy about this. It's still brand new, so we'll see if I can stick with it, but I just don't care that much about the products I'm not eating. I was already vegetarian, and I've gone without dairy several times in the past. Eggs were always the hardest thing for me to give up, but lately I haven't even really wanted eggs. I've just lost my desire to eat them for some reason. And that's great since they are so high in cholesterol and oly have six grams of protein, which is easy to get from vegetables and meat alternatives. Yes, I'm still on antidepressants, and as of right now, I feel like I may have to stay on them forever because every time I stop, I slowly fall apart, but at least I'm doing the best I can for my body and the planet. I know antidepressants are tested on animals and I don't like that I am contributing to that, but what else can I do? One thing I am going to try is natural progesterone from yams. I used to take it for almost two years but I was prescribed too high of a dose and it made my periods stop. It's when I stopped taking the progesterone that all my problems began. I was already having digestive issues while I was on progesterone, but when I stopped, the binge eating disorder, weight gain, allergies, extreme digestive discomfort, insomnia and depression began. It's because I have estrogen dominance. I'm not just self-diagnosing either. I have had my hormones checked several times, and every time my progesterone shows as practically nonexistent. My estogen has fluxuated between extremely low and normal, but my progesterone has always been almost off the radar. So I know this will help me. No one that eats as healthy and works out as much as I do is this fat without there being an underlying cause. I am 99% sure it will help me lose weight and feel less irritable, and I've heard it helps insomnia, too. I do remember sleeping really well when I used to take it, so I hope it will help. My insomnia has improved immensely, but there are nights (like last night) where I wake up in the middle of the night and then just lie awake for hours, thinking about irrelevant things. Well, I guess I'm off to the gym now. We're doing back today, my least favorite of all the muscle groups, however, I am especially cut in that area. I scare people with my traps. Once I lose this estrogen fat, I'll be back to my "rock hard to the core" body that I used to have, that is what I deserve to have for all my hard work.

Lately I don't even know what to write about. I feel like crap today because I drank three beers last night, which was way too much for me. I'm such a lightweight now. There was a time when three beers would've been an appetizer for me. I was drinking like cases of beer back in the day. Well, I don't know if it was really cases, but it was a shit ton of beer, just sucking them down like fruit punch. But now, three beers gets me pretty loopy and feeling like ass the next day. I still went to counseling this morning, then work, then the gym where I did personal training and cardio, and now back to work again. So I'm not fucking up as far as my responsibilities go, but as far as my general well-being, I'm fucking up. It's just not worth it. It's not that fun. For instance, last night, HAM and I were watching the first episode of Mad Men, and int this episode, one of the guys tells his fiancee, "Of course I love you, I'm giving up my life to be with you, aren't I?" This made HAM laugh, so I jumped on him immediately and gave him a hard time the rest of the night for laughing at this guy's joke about marriage being a trade-in for your life. HAM knows I want to get married. Ever since we first met and he asked me what I wanted, I said I wanted to get married. He said he didn't believe in marriage, and he explained to me that he didn't need the government interfering in his personal life. I understand that. I don't need that, either, but I still want to be married. It doesn't have to be legally bound, that's really not the point for me. I just want the commitment. I want him to declare his undying love for me and make a promise to stay with me no matter what. I don't need the court document, I just need the personal statement during a ceremony where I get to wear a pretty dress and there are witnesses, like his mother. So for me, when he jokes about marriage being the end of his life, I take it seriously. I'm a good girl. I'm pretty, funny, smart, and I'm a great cook. I mean, I have my flaws like anyone, but as far as girls go, there's lots of guys who would feel lucky to have me, and I think HAM should want to marry me before someone else tries to steal me away. There's these two guys who work in the same office park as my counselor, and every time I walk by, they always stare at me. Today, they finally decided to say hello to me and I found out that they work for an engineering recruiting firm that allows them to travel to several different countries. They are both young men, fine looking, with careers, and I know they think I'm cute. Of course, I'm not interested in these guys, I love HAM and only want to be with HAM, but the point is, it's not like I'm some loser that no one else would want. I'm attractive to people. And once they finally talk to me, they discover that I'm not a bimbo, I'm actually interesting to talk to and funny and not at all stuck up. I'm someone that guys want to get to know. And HAM is young. He's only 24 and I'm 31, so I worry he's not ready to commit to me, and I could spend years with him waiting for him to want to get married, and in the end he decides he wants more experience or I'm not right for him, and he leaves me when my expiration date has long since passed. In a lot of people's eyes, my expiration date already passed since I'm over 30 (for some men, 25 is the cut off). It's not that I believe in these expiration dates - I think they're offensive - but they're a reality for a lot of people. Women's stock goes down as steadily as men's stock goes up. As men progress throughout their lives, working their way up corporate ladders or what have you, they continue to increase their value to the opposite sex, meanwhile, women get older and accumulate more fat, wrinkles, and gray hair, making them less and less valuable with every passing day. It is sad, but it is a fact that cannot be denied and it is true in almost every culture. Men are visual creatures and they desire beautiful women. It may not be all that matters, but the fact is, it does matter. HAM loves the way I look today. He loves my big butt and small waist, he loves my makeup and hair and he loves my tan and nails. I can keep up a lot of this stuff, but there is the inevitable aging process that will change the shape of my body, turn my hair gray, and produce fine lines and wrinkles on my face. I want him to love me enough to love me when I'm old. I want him to look at me and not just see a hot chick with a nice ass, but I beautiful woman who he wants to grow old with, who he loves so much that I would be beautiful to him no matter how many years have passed or how many gray hairs I have. I have been with people who have said they felt that way about me before, and I don't really know if it was true or not, but I know there are some men out there who truly love their middle-aged or elderly wives, and I think I deserve a man that loves me that much, too. A man who doesn't see my gray hair or wrinkles, but sees the real me and thinks I'm amazing, stunning, and the only girl he'd ever want. That's how I see him. I imagine him twenty years from now, HAM the man instead of HAM the baby. I see him being just as sexy, if not more so. I see him always being the guy I want to be with more than anyone else in the world, no matter if he develops a gut or stays in perfect shape. Whether he loses his pretty blonde hair or keeps it. I don't care, because I love him as a person, not as a good-looking person. I've never even been with a good-looking guy before I met him. All my boyfriends were toothless, fat, or bald. Or all three. I don't care about looks on a man. I care more about their sense of humor than anything else. I need someone who makes me laugh, and who thinks I'm funny, too. HAM does that, too. He thinks men are always funnier than women, as I've mentioned before, but he does think I'm funny, and I think he's funny, too. But I do have this fear that he'll only love me as long as I'm pretty, and one day if I'm not pretty enough, he'll either stay with me out of obligation but long for someone younger and more attractive, or he'll just leave me. Because when I met him I was physically perfect and since then I've gained like seven pounds. My stomach isn't perfectly flat anymore and I've had months of being pale instead of tan, or I've been too poor to afford to get my nails done so they grow out and look ratty for a while. I'm just afraid how I look is extremely important to him because I looked perfect when he met me and he's really into physical appearance. He loves Katy Perry and he was totally into the idea of my getting breast implants (which didn't pan out partly because of cost, and partly because I read all of the literature that they give you when you go in for a consultation and it scared the crap out of me). Katy Perry has those giant milky globes and I have just slightly more than a twelve-year-old. I often joke that I should shop in the training bra section. So I don't know, maybe I'm just insecure, as my counselor says. I know I'm insecure, but I don't think it's all in my head, I think HAM really has an aversion to unattractive women and wouldn't want me if I was fat or ugly. And I can control fat, and I'm not ugly, but I can't stop time. I will get old, I have no say in the matter. I just hope he'll fall more in love with me and see me as beautiful as I get older instead of just old. I know I have an expiration date, I just hope he'll still want to drink me once I've gone sour.

I'm at work right now and I need to figure out the plan for dinner. Lately, HAM and I have been consuming an inordinate amount of bread. He and I both have a weakness for delicious bread, or carbs of any kind, really. I used to have a shirt with a cartoon pig and cow dancing, and above these two happy creatures, it read, "I LOVE CARBS". This shirt obvioulsy had more to do with my being a vegetarian than it did for my love of carbs, but it's always been true. Some people crave steak or chicken. Some people think the hear of a meal is meat. I'm the type of person who thinks the appetizer, the salad, the side dish, and the entree are fine, but can't compare to that dinner roll, smothered in butter and still warm from the oven. If I could live off of just bread, I'd be a happy woman. Bagels, English muffins, sprouted wheat, pumpernickel, sourdough, the dinner roll, the breakfast biscuit, toasted, microwaved, or fresh out of the fridge, I don't care, just give me bread or give me death! Fuck that Atkins jerk-off and his all protein diet. Seriously? I once saw my old boss at a pizza joint pull all of the greasy, hot cheese off of a slice of pizza and eat it. He said he was doing the Atkins diet. I was like, "You're eating fat dripping with more fat, and you call yourself a dieter? On what planet?" And fine, the Atkins diet works, but it works by sending your body into ketosis, which is basically like sending it into shock. You get a weird taste in your mouth and you lose your capacity to move. It's like having some crazy disease, but woohoo! You lose weight. Whatever. I tried it. I ate shrimp and peanut butter for days and wanted to die. And the carb backlash is unreal. Any time I deprive myself of something I always end up going at it hard once I let it back in again. I'm still on a carb rampage from a year-old failed low-carb diet. The point is, we do need to reduce our carb intake. We need to increase our veggie intake. I'm okay with the amount of protein I eat, but he needs more. He's trying to build muscle and he's already taking creatine, but the damn guy just doesn't eat enough. I eat enough for both of us, but that won't help him. I've never met a guy with such a small appetite. I eat all of my meals faster than him, I'm hungry when he's not, and I usually want more when he's full. Plus, we almost always eat the same amount of food. It's unbelievable. No wonder he's worried I might look like my mom one day. But my Mom never exercised, and I exercise five days a week, sometimes twice a day, sometimes six days a week. So we can definitely eat some carbs. With all our working out, we are entitled to carbs, but we can't live off of them. We need to start eating healthier. I wish we had one of those Vitamix blenders. Of course, that's like a fat person saying they need a certain type of shoes in order to work out. It's really about just doing it despite circumstances or appliances or wardrobe. Nothing gets accomplished by purchasing shit. Things get accomplished by doing them. Don't even get me started on consumerism and how we're all brainwashed to believe that we need this in order to do that, that we won't be happy until we get such-and-such, that we can't start this until be by that, etc. We're all trained to believe that we need Cover Girl to be beautiful, Nikes to play basketball, Snickers to be satisfied, and Comet to clean the toilet. I hate commercials trying to brainwash me! And even if I consciously know it's bullshit and that I can make my own decisions, commercials don't work by telling you something and you believing it - no. Instead commercials slowly leak into the collective subconscious over time until all of truly believe that we need these brands and these products to live happily. So yeah, I want a Vitamix blender. I want it so I can make fresh cashew butter and heirloom tomato gazpacho. I didn't see it on an infomercial though (another thing my mom has a problem with - every Christmas she gets me something she saw on an infomercial). I actually read about it on a vegan chef's blog when I was trying to be vegan a couple years ago. By the way, I always imagine myself returning to veganism, but right now I'm just so happy that I can eat dairy without turning into a giant, red, itchy blotch. Oh 2% lattes, how I've missed you so! I guess I'm rambling about all kinds of stuff when what I really need to do is either find a recipe or a restaurant. And whatever happens, vegetables need to be involved.

I have this problem with coffee. When I drink it, I start drinking more of it than of any other substance. I drink it the same way I used to drink alcohol. First thing in the morning, all day, every day, and when I'm not drinking it, I'm thinking about drinking it. So, once again, I have to stop. I stopped before and it was terrible at first, but eventually I got used to it. Then I started drinking it again. I swear I need a 12-step program for coffee. And it's not even the caffiene so much as it is the coffee itself. I love the way it smells, the way it tastes, the way it feels going down my throat and into my stomach, all warm and milky. There is nothing better than a delicious cup of hot coffee. It soothes my soul on a cellular level. I think I was born with the coffee-loving gene. It runs in my family. My mom used to live off the shit when I was growing up. She constantly spilled coffee on the floor of the car, so the car always had this french vanilla/ coffee smell. She seriously brewed multiple pots a day and had a thermos full of it morning noon and night. My dad's a little better, but pretty much can't live without several cups every morning. When he went to China this time, he shipped several bags of it to Meiying's condo so he would have coffee for the two months that he's there. But I feel like it's more than just a pick-me-up. Actually, it does little as far as it's stimulant properties are concerned. It really has no affect on me in terms of energy or focus. I just like how it tastes. I love how it tastes. It's truly an addiction that gets out of hand every time I indulge. I'll be okay for a little while, but before I know it, it's totally taken over my life and I am dehyrdrated and overeating because my brain is sending a signal to my body that my body interprets as hunger when in reality I just need water. I drink coffee, eat, drink coffee, eat, and eat and eat...and then feel an overwhelming sense of guilt and remorse ans shame and I hate myself. I sit there pinching my belly fat, telliing myself what I fat failure I am. And all of this could be avoided if I could just quit coffee. I wish it wasn't so insanely delicious! But I'm stopping again tomorrow. I got some thermogenics that you're not allowed to have caffeine with because they have 100 mg of caffeine already. That's fine, at least this way I won't have withdrawal symptoms. No horrible headaches or insomnia. Another good thing about the thermogenics is that they require women to drink at LEAST 91 oz of water a day. I have been trying to drink 64 oz, and doing okay, but 91 oz will be a challenge. I think I can do it, though. As long as I add lemon to the water, I can drink it without much coercion. I start tomorrow with one pill in the morning a half hour before breakfast. Then I go to grandma's to play scrabble, the post office to ship the books I sold on Amazon, and then the gym. It's supposed to help with energy during workouts, too, but without the jitters of shit with ephedrine. It has over 8000 positive reviews on bodybuilding.com. So I'm looking forward to trying it. And since the antidepressant I take is not an SSRI, I shouldn't get Serotonin Syndrome fromt taking it. But if for some reason I do start to develop symptoms of SS, I can just stop taking it and the symptoms will subside and I can get a full refund from Super Supplements. But what I'm really upset about is that my dad is starting to have second thoughts about moving to China, even though that has been his plan for several years now, and he married a women who lives there, who could barely get a visa just to visit the U.S. for a few weeks. I don't know how the hell they expect to get her a greencard, but apparently that's the new plan. But the original plan was that he would sell the house and we would go fifty fifty on a house where I would live and he would use as his U.S. address, something he has to have in order to live in China as an ex-pat. And I could handle it if he and DL (Dragon Lady) came here to visit occasionally and stayed with me, but what happens if they end up living in the U.S? Then what? Because if I have to live with my dad for another year of my life, I will commit suicide. Please, don't take this seriously, it's just a figure of speech for dramatic effect. But what I AM serious about is needing NOT to live with my freaking dad anymore. I'm 31 years old. Enough is enough. I've spent way too many years of my life living with that man and I just can't imagine one more year, let alone several. I don't know what I would do if he and DL moved here and I ended up without my own house. I've been waiting for the day I can purchase this house for so long and I dream about it, fantasize about it, search for real estate online almost daily...I can't have one more dream taken away from me. Especially this one. I've already conceded my California dream home in order for HAM to go to business school at UW. That means I have to stay in this dark, dreary, rainy, miserable, superficial soul-sucking void of a city for who knows how many more years. Fine, I've suffered through most of my life in this place and I'm familiar with the suffering so I can deal with it. But suffering in this pit of plastic hell with my dad and his wife? I just can't bare the thought of it. I mean, I love DL. If it were just DL, I'd probably be okay with it. She's sweet and quiet most of the time, and we have A SHIT TON in common, so that would be fine. But the two of them together? Fuck no. Besides, in my opinion, my dad drinks too much and he takes all those pain pills and drinks with the pain pills, and he eats chocolate and ice cream and sausage and pizza and whatever the fuck he feels like, plus coffee every morning, which will torture me since I'm trying to live coffee free. He's always nodding out in front of the TV or in front of the computer, or getting shit-faced so I have to drive him to his car the next day out in Seattle. I don't wanna do it. Maybe it's selfish of me because he put up with so much of my shit for so long, but seriously, I can't imagine he's want to live with me and HAM anyway. Whatever happens, it needs to be separate from my life. And I need to come out of this with a house.

I don't know if it's my period, or if I'm really starting to binge again. The medication seemed to work for quite a while. I stopped bingeing almost immediately after I started taking the medication. But i guess now since I've been on it for a while, it's losing it's effectiveness. It just seems so backward to me that the one thing I want more than anything in this world is to be hot, yet I do something repeatedly to ensure that I won't be hot. For breakfast I had my toaster waffles and eggs with agave nectar and a little peanut butter, and two cups of coffee with milk. For lunch I had a sandwich on wheat bread with avocado, goat cheese, spinach, tomatoes, pickles, and carmelized onions and a Mango Kombucha. Later I got an iced latte. For dinner I had two veggie tacos, 2 1/2 pieces of bread with peanut butter and agave nectar, and a few strawberries, plus a bunch of bites of peanut butter. Then later I had blueberries (a lot of them) with low-fat cottage cheese. Jesus Fucking Christ! I am out of my mind. That was probably over 2000 calories of food and I only did a half hour of cardio today. I am getting fatter by the second. I know part of my problem is coffee. When I start drinking coffee, my water consumption gets lower and lower until I'm back to being totally dedhydrated. The dehydration is so normal to me that I don't even know I'm dehydrated, so my brain sends a message to be body to put something in it, and my body decides that the something is food, when water is what I actually need. I was doing pretty good for a few days, but the same thing always happens. I stop drinking water and start eating more and more and drinking more and more coffee. Why am I such a fuck-up? I don't think anyone has ever hated themselves as much as I hate me. I am such a fucking failure. I want to be a size 2 and I'm a size 4. I want to eat healthy and I eat way too much. At least I'm sticking to the no added sugar, no sugars other than stevia and agave nectar. That hasn't been so bad. But I'm still eating too much. I did it yesterday, too. I was just going to have a little snack before the gym and i ended up eating a ton and not even going to the gym. I ate a Larabar, which is the only bar out there that has NO added sugar, not even honey. It's sweetened with dates. I got a latte too. And some trail mix, of which I was only going to have a little, but instead I ate the whole bag. Then I went back and bought some grapes and cherries and ate those too. I think I need to just stop eating a lot more foods. Like no fruit, no peanut butter, and no bread. And no agave nectar. Just vegetables, cottage cheese, eggs, and quinoa. Maybe a little salmon, if I decide fish is okay. I hate myself, I hate that I have no self-control. I feel like such a failure. Why can't I just control what I eat? I have to quit coffee again. FUCK.