Well I was given this as a task to do. Write about how it is to be me in my body.
I have not wanted to do this.
It makes me instantly sad.
I don't know how to do this - changing the way I use food.
I am too muddled. Can't hold a thought. Too reliant.
There is no way anyone can help me because I don't help my self.
Living in my body is sad although I have had happy memories. It doesn't matter how many people say I am OK. Although on an intellectual level I might know that as a human being that is the truth, on an emotional level I don't feel like that.
I am going on holiday to France on Sunday. I am looking forward to it - but not in some ways. I have few clothes that fit me and if I go shopping I can find nothing that looks good, exciting. I am ugly. I am rubbish.
I don't understand that my lover finds me sexy. I don't believe it. I don't understand it. I just think they say it. I think about all the people I like or love and that how they look has so little impact on how I feel about them. It is who they are that counts, what they think that interests me. I sort of don't think I count I think. To me. Although I do count. So my thought are so muddled.
This trying to lose weight has been such a failure really with just tiny successes.
I sat down this weekend and planned with my lover what to get for food this week. I bought it and wrote the plan down. This is quite a step. I don't get pleasure from this type of planning. But I did it. It was a little bit exciting!
It worked for one day.
Just one day.
I found a way to fail.
It makes me cry what I have done with the plan already. Howl really - with anger and sadness, and failure with myself.
It seems I can't do it. Won't do it. Am I too spoilt and just do what I want. Is there another person inside me that does one thing almost without the other side knowing.
I don't understand it.
But failing all the time is just a huge drain and makes things worse and so it's hard to write this down.
I can't do this. I want someone else to do it for me. Even though I know no one can.
Writing this crouched over a computer I have just looked down. On the wooden floor is actually a puddle where I have cried writing this. It's crazy to be like this.
I am tired of trying. Failing. Not knowing how to change things. Not willing to change. Just staying where I am getting bigger and bigger.
Exhausted with it.
But still not changing.
I am a lucky person. I have had so much in life. I don't know why I can't do this.
What is it like to live in my body?
Old, tough, fat, ugly.
Lucky, strong.
Capable. Useless.
