The Girl That Rants
Believe what you want, say what you want, and do what you want. To each his own. Everyone is titled to their own opinions. Here, you will find mine.
It all starts at 152.4.
A 12-year-old daughter shouldn’t weigh more than her mother.
Skip breakfast.
It goes down to 150.
Exercise.
149.5; you are out of the 150’s.
You don’t watch yourself, and you right back to the start.
Don’t freak out; it’s only 2 Ibs.
Skip breakfast, no snacks after school.
“Move it, fat ass,” says Chris Brichetto.
Skip breakfast, skip lunch, skip the snack after school.
You try to eat lunch.
It won’t stay down.
142, almost there.
It took 2 years, but you are almost to the 130’s.
You’re goal this whole time.
A 12-year-old daughter to finally weigh less than her mother…
after 2 years.
It’s starting to get noticeable,
but no one says anything.
More exercise.
You are over doing it, says one half.
Not yet, says the other.
135, you are there,
but it’s not enough.
You won’t let lunch stay down.
You poke around dinner.
“I’m not hungry.”
130, just a little more, you tell yourself.
You won’t wear a bathing suit,
only dad’s big shirts.
You won’t wear t-shirts or shorts,
even though it’s 90 degrees outside,
only big shirts and jeans.
Skip breakfast, skip lunch, skip the snack after school, skip dinner.
Mom finally makes you eat,
but you go to the bathroom right afterwards.
Mom asks, but you brush her off.
125; You have a new goal now.
You aren’t eatting,
when you do, you feel guilty.
You hate yourself.
You aren’t what you want to be.
You are nowhere near perfect.
You want to be like the girls on TV,
Like the pretty girls at school.
119; still not quite.
Dad tries, but you ignore him.
115, Mom sees you on the scale.
113.2, you refuse to speak when they confront you.
They tell you they love you.
They want you to get better.
You don’t know how.
You don’t even want to.
But you do,
after 2 weeks in the hospital.
You still struggle.
You have you bad days.
You still relapse.
You still panic.
But you try, as hard as you can not to lose it.
It won’t take over again.
Viewer discretion is advised.
I was in the shower and I was thinking, “If I die tomorrow, or tonight, or in the shower, what would everyone remember me by?” Then I started to think, “Will anyone remember anything specific?” Then I got to “what would be my proudest moment in this simple life I have lived?” And honestly, the first thing that came to my head was the first time I showed my boyfriend my breasts. I couldn’t think of anything else other than that.
I don’t remember how many months (or weeks) we had been dating, but I remember that we had been discussing my breasts. I told him I would show them to him, but then I realized that I was slightly self conscious of them. There was no nagging from him to see them, which I was very happy about, but there was a nagging in my head. We had been laying under the covers with only our heads poking out, then somehow, I don’t even know how I did it, but I took off my shirt, tank top and bra without him even noticing. I remember him saying “how did you do that?” with a bewildered look on his face.
Why did I tell you this? Because it’s funny that this is the only thing that came to my head when I thought “what is my proudest moment?”
Tonight is the eve of 2012. That means at 11:59 PM, I better be ready to confirm my New Year’s resolution, and my New Year’s wish. I haven’t been thinking much as to what those two things will be, but due to recent events, I have decided.
I have decided that I won’t let anyone, and GODDAMMIT, I mean ANYONE walk over me. I have been doing that too much lately— Letting people do what they want and say what they want to me— and it has been eating away at my being. So I have decided that I will do one of two things. I will either stand up for myself and set them straight, or I will just not associate myself with someone who wants to pick and pick at every flaw of mine.
Like I have said in my last post, I let very few people walk all over me because I can’t bear the thought of them hating my guts, and others I would just knock them out if they even tried. But i have decided that I shouldn’t care whether or not anyone hates me. A true friend shouldn’t make you feel like you are the dirt beneath their shoes, so they aren’t even allowed to be called a friend. I won’t let myself be the dirt beneath their shoes because I value my emotional stability more than I value making them feel greater about themselves.
Moving on. Now we talk about my New Year’s wish. If anyone isn’t familiar with this, then let me enlighten you. A New Year’s wish is a wish you must make when the sun comes up on New Year’s morning. Or, if you want to be lame, you make it when the ball drops (I always hating that term— “ball drop” — because it made my mind go to a dirty place). Anyways, I have decided on my New Year’s wish, but if that changes before 12:00 AM, then I guess that is OK. Anyways, I can’t exactly tell you what my New Year’s wish is, but I can give you a few clues. I want to be happy— Not that I am not happy right now, I just want to be entirely happy. All around… With myself.
AH! I just gave it away! Now you know! Silly me! Pretend you didn’t read a thing.
It is hard to be vague, and it is hard to be blunt about things. When you are vague, no on has a clue what you are saying, and when you are blunt, you hurt feelings. I can’t quite describe the way I am feeling right now without being blunt, because I tried being vague and I even confused myself.
It hurts to have a friend that pick out every single one of your flaws.
It hurts to have a friend that is so much of a hypocrite that it is driving you crazy.
It hurts to have a friend that insults you constantly.
They aren’t really a friend if they are doing all of those things, so why I consider her a friend, is beyond me. I let her walk all over me and I don’t know why I let her. When it comes to most people, I would sooner punch them than let them speak to me the way she does. But then there is that small number of people that I let walk all over me because I can’t bear the thought of them hating me.
Is it because I am a weak person?
Or am I so nice of a person that I avoid confrontation with these people?
Why do I let the people who hurt me the most so close to me?
….
Now I am confusing myself, so I think I will stop there. Besides, Ethan is wait for me to go to bed.
My name is unknown to most, and known to very few. I am usually referred to as “the person who hangs out with so-and-so”. It doesn’t bother me most of the time, but other times, I wish I could be known as myself, and not those who I associate myself with. I would rather someone say “I saw you riding your bike through the rain, and crash into a telephone pole!” than “Oh, you are the girl who hangs out with John!”
So people on tumblr, you can call me “the girl who rants” or “the girl who won’t shut the fuck up about how she fails at socializing”.
