A is for Ass

D is for Denouement

I have better things to do besides type about myself. But here I am. Typing.

I live in the city. I have two cats and a wanderlust for something more than this. More than what I have ever been. I'm single, recently so. JY dumped me by telling me that my weight was a problem for him. He just didn't see me and my weight in his future. Which is funny. I'd been in his future before I told him I had a eating disorder.

I don't really know if I have an eating disorder. I self-diagnose. I've been through enough therapy to know that I don't need to talk about childhood trauma ever again. I'm over it. Really. I binge, or at least I think I do. I'm compulsively overeat too. But I'm working on these things. I've lost 13.5 lbs. I have 56.5 to go.

I'm still sad about him. I miss him, even though he's an ass and turned into a person I didn't understand or know when we broke up. He turned into that guy. The guy that will only date skinny girls. Skinny girls who look fabulous every where they go. I looked fabulous too. He just didn't have vision.

His best friend's wife told me that I was her first fat friend. What was I supposed to say to that? Gee. Thanks! I'm honored, Mrs. Skinny. Can I see your breast implants again? Or do you want to see what real breasts look like? I'm so not kidding. Fiction doesn't get much better than this.

posted by CV @ 9:30 PM