The Skinny.

The weird thing about losing weight is the mentality that you gain along with it. I mean, lose? For a while I was really excited about losing weight. I felt really cool about it, like on an emotional high and faster and smarter. I felt this one up on the people I work with, I would look scornfully upon them as they ate fast food for lunch, my lip would curl with disdain as they ate french fries.

Then came the week when I felt sorry for myself, when I thought yeah I'm losing weight but I'm not having any fun. That was when those same french fries would smell immaculate, would make my mouth feel like it hadn't tasted anything good in weeks. That was only a week.

I've lost about 13 lbs, and while that doesn't seem like much, its a lot for me. For one, because I was working out too, and I believe that muscle weighs more than fat, or so I'm told. For two, my pants are dropping off of me. I've been mooning the hell out of patients in the ER. I've perfected a sideway crouch down for when I drop a paper so that my ass faces a drawer or a wall.

The weird thing is that I've developed food fetishes and phobias. I don't eat anything unless I know what goes into it or how many calories are in it. I mentally calculate my caloric intake for the day and measure what I can have if I have this, or what I can't have if I have that. I haven't eaten pizza since February (though I think that is in part because of throwing it up last winter because of the flu) and I haven't had fast food in about a year now. Something like that. Those 'golden arches?' Don't give a damn.

The good is that I don't have as bad stomach pains now. My poop regiment (bear with me) is so much better. I think also because I don't drink pop anymore all those high fructose sugars and carmelized food colors and carbonation are less likely to stress out my body. The less oil in food I eat, the better I feel. Even mentally.

Except...the other day I was looking at myself in my bathroom mirror totally bare on top. I felt really fat again. I had just weighed myself the day before at work, so I knew I hadn't gained or lost any weight. It just worried me a little bit, because I don't want this to become an obsession. So what I think is, to spare me any confusion, is that I've become used to the size of my body now. When I was losing weight, I could notice it easily. Now, I'm used to my body at this size so I don't notice any loss anymore. At least that is what I am hoping.

I really love peas, by the by. I have a little more confidence in myself when I go out, but I think its because I have been caring a bit more of what I look like as well. For um, a certain reason.

Ok.

Theengs.

I've become obsessed in the nicest way with butternut squash soup. I crave it. I don't even want to eat anything but it, with some walnuts crushed up into it. Little chunks of nut with sweet soupy warmth. I also like peas. I like peas with a little bit of I can't believe its not butter...spray. I like to talk about food. I kind of want something sweet right now, but I'm not exactly hungry enough for that.

I want to get in my car and drive somewhere by myself and I want it to be warm enough where I can sit outside, but not warm enough where there will be bugs to irritate me. I feel like my brain is exploding with too much right now. Number one, ladies. Ladies ladies ladies. I'm going to write a song called that. Confusing, complicated, ladies. That would be the second line in the song. I feel badly because I'm not being the normal good girl, I'm being somewhat okay with letting someone have second thoughts in a relationship. Anddddd I know thats bad.

I mean, I'm not acting on it, but, and neither is she let's get that straight as a well drawn line, but its teetery tottery too many texts back and forth, too much talking, too much. She has a girlfriend, and that should be that. I should lay down the line and be like, hey, its fun but I'm no longer comfortable with it. Its nice though. I wish we could skip the uncomfortable edge right now and go into being good friends. Its nice to have a mutual attraction with someone.

BUuutututututututututttttttt we aren't doping a... I meant to write doing but doping is funny. We aren't doing anything wrong. It could have happened, but neither of us did anything because we have those oh so pleasant morals. Nice for once I met a girl who has them as well. While inconvenient for a good shebango, its better for the future of my integrity. Yes, it is still intact.

I know I'm vague.

Other other other, last night was crazy with "walrus slaps" and sexy cupcakes and meat sauce with hotdogs. Sheri said she gets The Meat Sweats, which make her greasy but cold. I said we should name a song or album that. Adam, Sheri, and I are starting a band, and we are going to use 1 2 F U. I know, I thought it up and its amazing and I'm well pleased with myself.

He just texted me that the fiery furnaces are playing at frankie's...perhaps I should go.

.....

There's some sort of change in me right now. I don't know. Maybe its the oncoming winter, as fall is already here. I used to think that fall was the perfect time to fall in love, and a lot of my relationships did start in the fall. I think back about the perfect quietness of fall nights, how J and I used to walk to the bar in bowling green, and I would hate the walking because it was quicker just to drive there, but I still secretly enjoyed those walks.

Late night, even when it was so cold that there was a bit of snow on the ground, and she would cuddle me because she could see how cold I was. Then there was that one time with C, when she met me outside of University Hall on campus, and I was so young, God I would never do this now, but right there she rubbed her cheek on mine and it was so cold but her lips were so warm. I miss that kind of love. I wonder if its the type of love of youth, which one can never return to... like I only had one chance at that sort of love and that was it.

Right now I'm listening to Madonna (ok ok stop...hear me out) and its the song Oh Father. Honestly, I think this is a really well written song. The rises in it, the chorus of youngish voices, whenever I hear it I think of my youth and how I dealt with my parents. In a way, with my father. I can't say that when I was younger I had a really good relationship with him. I can't say that now I have any better of a relationship with him. I thought for a minute that things were getting better, but he hurt me again, even when I thought I would never let him into that part of my vulnerability again.

He used to always degrade me as a child. Most of my memories of youth involving him have him screaming at me, raising his fist at me (he never hit me), wishing he never had me. He said that to me and its so vivid, this memory, that all I have to do is open that door in the back of my mind and I'm in that room again, hearing him say it. He used to tell me to stop crying when I would start crying. Now, as an adult, in order for me to cry, the tears have to squeeze themselves out. Crying is actually painful, because the tears will sit like a rock in the back of my throat, will burn behind my eyes. I can actually mostly control crying, since he so ingrained it into me that crying was weak.

We were driving in my car, my mom and I were returning from a wedding shower for my cousin. My dad was in the backseat because he had been sick lately, having palpitations. There was a scary instance where I was at a bookstore and my mother called, and I could hear the cold white fear in her voice, controlled but there, as she told me that my dad had fainted. I left the store and met my mom, where I found my dad on the floor with hardly any clothes on. My mom told me that she had slapped his face, yelled at him and he didn't respond. I knew she thought he was dead when that happened, as he had been having heart problems lately.

After calling the doctor and the doctor thinking he had a stroke, I picked him up under the arm and bodily dragged him to my car, where he threw up as my mom and I drove him to the emergency room. We stayed with him until he was admitted, saw him to his room, and left. He was discharged the next day and put on new heart medication.

Fast forward to a month later, with my mom and I and my dad in the car. He had been lecturing me about my driving for the long trip up to Troy, Michigan, and on the way back, I couldn't take it, and I said I was going to drive my car into the guardrail if he kept up. He started calling me stupid, over and over, and it was like a camera clicked and I was looking at a photo from my childhood. But I wasn't going to take it, and this time, I didn't speak to he and my mom for two months.

It was one of the worst 2 months of my life. The other part of it that sucked so much was that I had no one to talk to about it. The friend that I thought might lend an ear and some kindness was so preoccupied that they didn't even notice that I didn't look like I had slept in weeks. Maybe preoccupied isn't accurate, maybe self centered would make more sense. I felt so incredibly alone. Even in my worst times, I can always talk to my mother and have her comfort me. The other pain was that when I thought my dad and I were getting better, and we were, we were actually having conversations (the novelty!), I had to stop trying to love him again.

I started biking a lot, the loneliness of downtown at midnight matched how I felt, and even when I would stop in somewhere, like the tavern, I wouldn't be able to stay long, because I always felt this restlessness. I don't know if that was entirely because of everything that was going on, but riding made me feel better. I was losing weight because of it and feeling like I was finally giving a damn about my body.

I started talking to my parents again last week. I had stopped by to make a car payment and my dad had opened the front door, telling me that I didn't have to speak to him but I should see my mother. He wouldn't take the money so I went inside and handed it to my mother, but instead she grabbed me by both arms and stared at me, starting to cry. I hated the hurt I had given her. My dad looked thinner. That day my friend KR was coming into town, and all of us spent the day hanging out. I was pretty shaken up, because after my mother had grabbed me like that, I had pushed her arms away and left the house without saying anything.

I was angry, and heartbroken, and full of stupid pride that didn't allow me to accept the apology my dad had given me over the phone in a message he left me. The entire day had me trying to pretend everything was great and alright and doing a pretty good job because no one really said anything, even when I tried to explain what had happened when I went over. It was quickly pushed out of conversation, and I, used to that sort of thing, didn't mention it again.

All of us, E, K, and KR and I went to a restaurant. We were having an alright time, when K said some sharp things to me that I totally felt were uncalled for. I, trying to be a good person, apologized for bringing up what was thought to be inappropriate in the conversation. It was like a pin being shoved into my balloon, it was the damage that whittled away at the wall I had created around the day. For the rest of the meal I tried not to let my face crumble, I ate my food, and E asked me if I was angry. I said no, just tired.

Sitting and waiting for E to bring the car up, K was again sharp with me, and I got up and said I was going to the car. I didn't want anyone to see me crying, and I hoped that KR would ride with E and K, but she ended up running to my car. I apologized, and we had a little bit of a talk while the tears rolled down my cheeks. E and K left without even saying goodbye. I felt humiliated crying in front of KR, and it had to of been uncomfortable for her. She managed it the best she could, I think now of how funny things work out. Someone I hardly see giving me such compassion. It felt nice to be able to talk about things that had been sitting in the pit of my stomach for so long.

I wonder sometimes if I'm just so closed off that no one thinks to ask me how I'm doing, or how anything is anymore. Things have definitely changed between myself and some friends. I don't know how or when, but its a distance. For some reason it makes me second guess everything I do, I sense like people tiptoe around me. Well, certain people. I've always felt like if someone isn't making you happy, whats the point in hanging around for nothing. The bad thing is all the attachments that make it such a difficult break.

Four a.m. thoughts.

Despite everything bad that I may do, I know that God still loves me an awful lot.

Listen.

The wind is every now and then blowing my curtains toward me. Although fall is officially a few days away, the night coolness has been reminding me of the changing of season. I feel like the older I get, the more aware I am of it. Sometimes I have the though to do a video project where I ask people in the hottest of days if they wish it were winter, and also in the coldest of winter if they wish it were summer.

I stay up late because I don't want to go to sleep, that very childlike want to stay up as late as possible despite drooping eyelids and the tiredness of next day. I dragged through the last three days of work, too many hours in the day devoted to work and then not sleeping. It wasn't as if I accomplished much at night, I just didn't want to rest.

I haven't been sleeping well anyway, so it seems pointless to try to do so. I don't know that laying my head on the pillow would change the fact that though I do sleep, I feel the quality of sleep isn't good enough to sustain my energy through the day. I wonder if my change in diet, though better for me, is somehow affecting me detrimentally. I wouldn't think it would be possible, but hey, anything is these days.

Tonight I went and saw some bands play, especially I was waiting for my friends The Retrospectres, and of course, I was blown away by their talent. I felt a mom-like grin on my face, and in my head I kept thinking how I love these boys. Two of them in their forties, but still my boys. Then some girl I only partially recognized came up to me with two somewhat known friends, and they started dancing up front all around, though I was only trying to enjoy the show. I smiled and directed my eyes back up front, trying to ignore their movements. I don't feel like dancing with one's back to the band is nice, that just seems disrespectful. Perhaps it almost seems like redirecting the attention toward themselves. When the mostly unknown girl tried dancing with me, I pointedly looked at my beer which was empty and make the pretense to go get another. On the way, mid through the song, I walked right past the bar and to my car, driving home.

Something about that set me unhappy, though I was smiling through most of the band's set. Oh well, I can be like that, just the odd girl out who doesn't understand the "sexy dance" that girls sometimes do, which to me looks like little girls aping an attempt at being women. That isn't meant to be harsh, I just don't understand it.

You know...

I just want to draw pictures and have people like them but not tell me they like them but just know they like them secretly and then I get paid for it and because of that money I can afford to draw really neat and interesting pictures and everyone is happy children ladies parents moondogs and especially me.

Sometimes.

Sometimes I log in and log out of different social networks, facebook and gmail and twitter. I don't know what I'm looking for, but it seems like the conversation has gone stale. There is no intrique, no new things to see, and it feels like everything that was nicely jumbled up and interesting has settled. That's the worst, isn't it? Settling. I've always hated that-- in relationships, in friends, in fights.

Sometimes I think my friends are settling with what they have, but then I just wonder if I don't understand what they see in people, or jobs, or themselves. I wonder if the people that do well in life are the ones who are never satisfied. But that as well doesn't sound like a good time. Who wants to battle with never feeling full or happy with what you have? I don't know. I just don't want things to be predictable. I wonder if that is what they mean by habit. Maybe I'm learning people's habits, even on a white computer screen. These are stupid questions, really. Who gives a damn.

My friend Alison says you can't say the word scooter without slightly smiling.