End the Cycle

At least I hope to. My mother suffers from it my sister and me.

I think I am beautiful, but it is hard to stop my mind from thinking that the noodles I will have will not go directly to my thighs. Or my ass, or my stomach, or the mirad of possiblities and fat deposits I have.
Why can we not be beautiful inwardly? Why do we make love with our eyes instead of our hands?
I hate that I understand the Hedi Montag plastic surgery side so much. I despise the uncertainty that floods my brain.

I wish I had a happy ending, but this is a constant struggle and sometimes I do ok others I don't. Today is one of them and I really need is understanding.

Well. I could have told you that.

One of my friends called me this morning. We hadn't talked for a while, so it was good to talk with my friend and do some catching up.
But as I talked with my friend, I realized how much of an inferiority complex I feel within myself whenever I talk to this friend. Like, in a huge way.
My friend mentioned at one point, "You sound nervous."
Well, yeah. Talking to you makes me hate myself, think that I'm complete crap, and makes me feel like I'm having a sharp-and-wheezy hard-to-breathey panic attack.

Nervous.
I could have told you that.