Monday, December 26, 2011

Semantics

I really hate the term "manorexia."
I was watching Silverchair videos on YouTube and a link to an interview with a former male model suffering from anorexia came up. I clicked it and the description said "...also known as Manorexia."
No, it is not! Anorexia is anorexia, doesn't matter if it affects a man or a woman.
It's not like it's a chick disease, I remember reading somewhere that one of the first people ever diagnosed with it was a man, but I can't find the article now so maybe take it with a grain of salt.
When a man has chest pains, we don't call it Mangina.
I don't know... It just really pisses me off because I think it belittles a very serious disorder, and that it could(and probably does) result in men not getting the treatment they need.

--

Also, I hate that when you google the word fat, pictures of fat people come up instead of pictures of, literally, fat. As in the yellow goop that clogs our arteries.
And then, on the first page, this

I freaking hate society. I hate the fact that I feel guilty every time I eat something that isn't celery.
I hate that even at my thinnest, heart palpitations, anemia and all that fun stuff, I was still considered "plus size"

I hate that, since I was a kid, I've been dieting because I was made to feel guilty about having tits and thighs, that today I freak out when my thighs touch.
That not wearing a size extra small feels like the worst thing in the world.

I hate that I'm made to feel ashamed for looking like a woman. And that I give into it by dieting obsessively and feeling ugly when I gain half a gram.

I hate "thinspiration," I hate diet-this and diet-that, low calorie, low carb bullshit.
I hate stick thin people advertising junk food.
I hate special K and diet pills and Tyra Banks and hydroxycut and Atkins and heroin chic!

I wish society made it easier to feel comfortable in your skin. It breaks my heart to see beautiful, intelligent people being eaten alive by their own bodies because of the pressure to fit into a mold.

I know this hasn't been the most articulate blog post but I'm in a pissy mood and I can't sleep, also I've been feeling fat all Christmas and I'm sick of it.
So there.

Go suck a bag of farts, Kate Moss

Tuesday, December 6, 2011

larva


My whole life has been a very surreal experience.
I've always relied on my imagination to get me through the day, especially when times were tough.
I made up stories in my head, back stories for the people who constantly put me down, in which they either died slow and painful deaths or I found out why the hell they were so cruel.
I made up whole other characters in my head, who could I be tomorrow? Today I will be someone who can handle the pain, they will go to school and stand up for me.
It got to a point where I completely lost myself, I changed masks too frequently and I'm still not sure who I am.

Some days I look in the mirror and I don't even look like me anymore. I do, I look the same as I always did, but what I see doesn't match how I feel.