(food for thought--
--sorry, bad pun)
Happy tuesday. I'm chillen and smoking, drinking black coffee, listening to Regina Spektor. Looking longingly outside. It is a beautiful day. I have to get ready for work in a bit so I thought this was a great time to post. It's "the week before" aka Stuff My Face week. LOL. I'm aware that my shifting hormones and fluctuating weight are a direct result of mother nature fucking with me, like she does once a month, but that doesn't mean I'm ok or any more accepting of the fact that I'm gaining.
I feel like a cow. The mirror tells me I'm not too bad. The key is to lay off the salty stuff, right? Well let's see, I've been up for an hour and I've already had 1 waffle (90), organic maple syrup (100), 1 english muffin (130), peanut butter (160)...
I can eat like such a fat ass! Last night I also binged! Ugh...I'll just keep it as low as possible for the rest of the day and week and month and year and my life, really. Thank God for work. It's proving to be a distraction. I hate living at home, but working and making money are steps one and two of Moving The Fuck Out. I'm thinking January 2012. After the holiday madness is over. Yup, that sounds good. I really can't wait.
It's not that living here at home is bad, per se. It's just unbearably annoying and detrimental to my teetering anxiety levels. It's me having to keep myself contained in this little daughter shell my parents prefer me to be in.
I want to cook naked, dammit. I want to poop with the door open. I want to decorate every little nook and cranny of my future place with unique-to-me creations and cute things. I want to cast aside my possessions with ease, with no fear of being messy in "someone else's space", with no moral barriers. I want to smoke weed on my couch with my legs sprawled out on the wall and a cup of water balancing precariously on the armrest without worry of "offending" someone. I want to eat dinner at 10 at night, a trashy guilty dinner with 2 large cups of wine, I want to walk around tipsy but free. I want to crave connection on my own terms, it'd be nice to want to reach out and call someone, or invite someone over, or meet up somewhere. But really, most of all, I just want my own space in my own place and my own fucking time.
I'm not sure that I've ever wanted something this bad. It's good to have goals.
My back hurts. I'm high. I slept like shit last night: I fell asleep around 4:30 AM, then was woken by the phone at 10, and then again at 11:30 (damn collectors). I'm feeling zombielike, I like uninterrupted sleep. Maybe I should try to get to bed earlier. It's tough though, I get out of work and I have this second wind, I feel excited to just chill out and relax for a bit.
Ah, well. There's worse things. Like how I'm flirting with my married (and with a child) coworker. We work right next to each other, he's training me on my new position. We talk and laugh and work hard and slack off. Yesterday we were playing a game on my phone for a good hour, some other coworkers crowded around to watch but were dispersed by our supervisor. It was actually a fun end to a monday but I need to watch it with the flirting. It's bad. I'm bad.
Thanks for the kind comments on that last post, I was feeling a little sorry for myself (who me? never!) and it was nice to hear from my gorgeous readers. You really are fucking sexy and I want to do you. Was that too much? Sorry, I've had sex on the brain.
Wanna know why?
I fucked my exboyfriend on sunday.
I know, dumb.
J. & I dated years ago, when I was 18. We had a volatile but passionate relationship that has faded in intensity over the last 7 years but it's all still there. We just have always kept in contact. Through serious relationships and engagements, through miles and hours, through fire and death, through life and living. We hooked up (met up for sex) tons of times after we broke up originally, but we hadn't had sex in maybe 2-3 years. Until sunday.
*warning; sexual descriptions below
I called him and said, "this is a booty call" and he said, "come over". So I did. We didn't even talk. At all. I've really never experienced anything like this.
He just let me in, we went in his bedroom and he shut the door and kept the lights off. He walked over to me and we started making out. He didn't waste any time, he immediately walked us over to the bed and lifted me on to it. We tore each other's shirts off, kissing lips and necks and breasts. It gets a little blurry, but I was wearing a skirt and he slid my panties down my legs, spread them, and started to go down on me.
I was quivering but keeping it quiet, as I approached the O I pulled him on to the bed and took off his jeans and boxers. I went down on him very successfully, and then climbed on top and rode him for approximately one minute. No lie. It was quick and sexy, but he's my ex. I used him.
And I don't think it will happen again. I unfortunately left (lost) an earring there. So I will have to see him again to get it. But that doesn't mean anything will happen. I'll let you know.
Think thin today. I am feeling very thinspired after writing all of this. Think about getting naked in front of someone and you will put down that food. Stay strong.