I don't usually do this but I kinda got in the mood to write a blog. Most of my closest friends aren't on here so I'm guessing I can pretty much just put this out there without having to indulge too much bullshit. All I really want, most of the time, is to just be left alone, and that's really the crux of the problem.
Almost two years ago now, I was diagnosed with gout. That's right. I was afflicted with an ailment that struck old white dudes in the middle ages. Needless to say, I freaked. It didn't help that I had coincidentally just finished rereading Steppenwolf and was not interested in having yet another thing in common with the main character. I always figured I'd end up a bitter old cunt of a misanthrope but I didn't have any intentions of being a bitter old cunt of a misanthrope constantly experiencing pain akin to broken bones. I always said I would never loose weight for superficial reasons. Unfortunately I now had to lose weight for legitimate reasons.
At the beginning of this year I resolved to lose however much weight my rheumatologist recommended. He conservatively low-balled me at 40 pounds. I lost twice that and some change. Yay frigging me. Catch-22 is the goddamned variety of responses I've experienced. It's the first thing anyone that hasn't seen me in a while points out. I was sick of it 50 pounds ago. People congratulate me to my face, then accuse me of drug use behind my back. When asked how I did it, and my response is a balanced diet and regular exercise, I'm met with resentment because I didn't spout off some ridiculous fucking fad diet. I weird people out if they're just meeting me because I still refer to myself as fat and ugly cause its what I've always done. Rag on yourself, beat the world to the punch, and you at least retain some semblance of dignity. That's the other fucking thing. I begrudgingly indulged fat and ugly jokes for a quarter century. I dished 'em out as well as I took 'em. Now, apparently I've lost the right to behave the way I always have. I seriously hurt my best friends feelings recently just for making a stupid comment about how he looked in a Halloween costume that would've been jovially reciprocated no more than a year ago. It's like I've lost any right to be me.
Honestly, where does my friend get off holding a grudge. He gets chubby and all of a sudden he's got a legit fat guy complex. I don't think so. I make a joke at his expense for the first time ever and suddenly I'm a motherfucking villain. At least he's been attractive and can be at a whim. Try faking newfound confidence when you have a completely devastated self image without the slightest inkling of self esteemat least as far as personal appearance is concerned. Fuck 'em. I may lack "confidence" or at least the kind of confidence that appeals to the opposite sex but I got it where it matters. I may be that pussy in a bar but I am the best at what I do. (all wolverine comments will be summarily deleted) I'm the youngest senior scientist I've ever heard of. I PLAY GOD FOR A LIVING. So, in the words of Angus Bethune's grandfather"Screw 'em."
That's it. I'm done. I think I actually do feel better. The irony of someone writing a blog about not wanting to draw attention to themselves isn't lost on me. I. Don't. Care. I only have two friends on this site. I find it really unlikely anyone else is going to stumble upon this self-indulgent prattling and I really needed to vent. Time for a bowl, some journal articles, and bed. Peace
Almost two years ago now, I was diagnosed with gout. That's right. I was afflicted with an ailment that struck old white dudes in the middle ages. Needless to say, I freaked. It didn't help that I had coincidentally just finished rereading Steppenwolf and was not interested in having yet another thing in common with the main character. I always figured I'd end up a bitter old cunt of a misanthrope but I didn't have any intentions of being a bitter old cunt of a misanthrope constantly experiencing pain akin to broken bones. I always said I would never loose weight for superficial reasons. Unfortunately I now had to lose weight for legitimate reasons.
At the beginning of this year I resolved to lose however much weight my rheumatologist recommended. He conservatively low-balled me at 40 pounds. I lost twice that and some change. Yay frigging me. Catch-22 is the goddamned variety of responses I've experienced. It's the first thing anyone that hasn't seen me in a while points out. I was sick of it 50 pounds ago. People congratulate me to my face, then accuse me of drug use behind my back. When asked how I did it, and my response is a balanced diet and regular exercise, I'm met with resentment because I didn't spout off some ridiculous fucking fad diet. I weird people out if they're just meeting me because I still refer to myself as fat and ugly cause its what I've always done. Rag on yourself, beat the world to the punch, and you at least retain some semblance of dignity. That's the other fucking thing. I begrudgingly indulged fat and ugly jokes for a quarter century. I dished 'em out as well as I took 'em. Now, apparently I've lost the right to behave the way I always have. I seriously hurt my best friends feelings recently just for making a stupid comment about how he looked in a Halloween costume that would've been jovially reciprocated no more than a year ago. It's like I've lost any right to be me.
Honestly, where does my friend get off holding a grudge. He gets chubby and all of a sudden he's got a legit fat guy complex. I don't think so. I make a joke at his expense for the first time ever and suddenly I'm a motherfucking villain. At least he's been attractive and can be at a whim. Try faking newfound confidence when you have a completely devastated self image without the slightest inkling of self esteemat least as far as personal appearance is concerned. Fuck 'em. I may lack "confidence" or at least the kind of confidence that appeals to the opposite sex but I got it where it matters. I may be that pussy in a bar but I am the best at what I do. (all wolverine comments will be summarily deleted) I'm the youngest senior scientist I've ever heard of. I PLAY GOD FOR A LIVING. So, in the words of Angus Bethune's grandfather"Screw 'em."
That's it. I'm done. I think I actually do feel better. The irony of someone writing a blog about not wanting to draw attention to themselves isn't lost on me. I. Don't. Care. I only have two friends on this site. I find it really unlikely anyone else is going to stumble upon this self-indulgent prattling and I really needed to vent. Time for a bowl, some journal articles, and bed. Peace
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Angelina Jolie
Thora Birch
Milla Jovavich
Katey Cuoco
thanks!