2003-11-17 - 10:52 p.m.
ive temporarily locked up for several reasons. 1. paranoia, self-absorbed. 2. im feeling false, i need to write knowing no one else will see it. 3. im feeling guilty about things i wrote about chris, and ways ive acted around him, i need to sort this out privately.
i had my obligatory yearly pelvic today. sneaky fuckers keep your birthcontrol until you spread for them. they dangle those pills right between your gaping knees. god i hate it when the nurse rams her fingers up there. i hate having them see my shaved pussy, my scabby legs, my lard stomach. i like getting my boobs checked, it feels good in a buzzy relaxing way, but the borderline erotic sensation is severely disturbing.
im poor and lazy, so i go to freebie planned parenthood. man you really get what you dont pay for! today they didnt even have real smocks, which are bad enough. today i had to wait half an hour with a big paper towel wrapped around me. i felt like an overstuffed eggroll. and of course it got all discombobulated during the exam, and by the end i was sitting there desparately clinging to bits of shreds of paper.
chris and i are home alone tonight. last week i was all jizzy over him, but of course my mean streak took care of that inconvenience. now i think his legs are disgustingly thin, and i hate the way he sits and stands with his long spine curved into a C. and his head looks so tiny. im so fucking mean. he has a nice torso, even if it is tortured and skrawny.
he worries me. its my self-obsessed paranoia getting the best of me. i worry how hes been talking to me half naked a lot lately. he stands there in his tiny pink towel talking and talking. or with his shirt off, in the middle of getting dressed. i cant tell if hes trying to instigate me or what. and then he does this weird thing where he follows me around the apartment whenever i show him the tiniest bit of attention. it makes me nervous. i go to my room to grab something, and he follows me in. or he corners me in the tiny kitchen, so i make nervous talking sounds until i can make normal looking escape.
its probably nothing. and if its not, its probably my fault. he probably smelled my lust one time or another. and the lust will probably cycle through again, someday when the lighting is more flattering.
i need to get out. that would solve a lot of problems, real or imagined. some secondary ed kids had a party last weekend. of course i didnt go. feeling fat and socially inept topped the list of my lame excuses. yeah, as if weighing twenty pounds less is really going to make my social life any better. im so stuck in adolescence. next time ill go. and ill feel dumb, but ill go again. and ill feel dumber, and ill say ill keep going, but ill stop. ill stop and my life will be just as it is now.
