I don’t know what masochistic part of me decided to dig the knife of self-pity and dejection even deeper in, but I got out the Calvin Klein cutaway swimsuit and tried it on.
I was feeling kind of smug like “of COURSE it won’t look good, you fat heiffer.”
But I tried it on.
And it… doesn’t look terrible. It’s still no way good enough to go out in public in, because it’s the kind of swimsuit people will stare at so I have to be seriously confident in it. But… Christopher Walken, I’ve lost more weight! Woop woop!
I’m still a bit podgy. But I was so freaking overweight in January…Feb… March… April, even.
I’m amazing at losing weight. This rocks. I reckon at this rate, if I keep starving myself and having a shitty social life so very little beer…, in just one more month I’ll be able to put on that swimsuit and rock my ego like it’s 1999, except with more boobs than I had that year (I was 12)
And so goes the crazy rollercoaster that is my ego…
I’m almost skinny enough for the CK one piece! I swear when it’s finally time to put it on fo’ sho’, I will post a photo and shit I wish I hadn’t deleted the depressing “before” photo I took in it because man that would have been interesting to have, and then I could use it to sell my diet book called “the starvation, pill popping and chain smoking diet”
Mercy mercy me..
Ok laters, MFO out