The Girl With No Face

I can’t help it! and its prolly from lack of sleep. Lack of sleep or lack of affection. Lack of sleep or lack of companion. Lack of sleep Or lack of understanding.

I don’t care anymore. I don’t care for those that just wish to point out whats wrong with me after they helped cause it.

I think I can afford having the lap-band surgery. I will do it and I don’t give two shits if anyone doesn’t want me to do it. Not my parents. not my friends.

I’m feeling the discomfort in my movement again. I feel the tightness of my pants. I see my belly growing. I see my self esteem wasting away again. And yet, I still can’t seem to stop eating. I can’t find the off switch.

Lap-band. Definitely Lap-Band. its obviously my only solution. I have to do it myself. I can’t think of anyone else because, you know what? I can never depend on people for anything. not in support and certain not in saying the right things to me. Everyone just makes things worse. So i gotta do this on my own. And since i can’t really.. I’ll just have to force my body to succumb. 

You know why I’ve given up? It’s cuz I’ve given up on the idea of being loved for what I am. I’ve given up that one day someone will love me for me. I have to mold into the ideal woman. The ‘ideal’ woman that has no fat on her body and has no hips. the ideal woman that dresses like everyone else and has long straight hair. the ideal woman that doesn’t burp or fart or do number 1 and 2 in the bathroom. the ideal woman thats obliging and never really gets anywhere in the world. I have to mold myself into something that is not me, something that I really hate.. just so that I can be loved. otherwise, nobody will love me.

Shakira knows what I’m talking about