Out, home, and done

Hello! I got back from Alsace, I know it's a little belated, but I'm blogging now. Didn't get as much tanning done as I wanted, but that's partially my own fault... And I have to say... IT WAS A STRUGGLE. It was wonderful, beautiful, and all positive kinds of 'ful', but the fact that I had to eat three meals a day... counting starters, entres, and dessert, it was just horrible. The food was spectacular, but I felt horrible. Especially after dinner, cause we went to sleep right after since the whole thing lasted until about ten or eleven o'clock. Yeah, it was tough. By the end of the week I lost the ability to pull in my stomach -- that scared the shit out of me. And I just stopped feeling hungry, cause I had food in my system constantly.

And I got so confuuused... because at first I just ate everything at dinner. All of it, cleaned the plates. And I finished sooner than everybody else, because we eat quickly at home. Then dad started talking bullshit about me not eating my salads. Which I totally did, as opposed to all the other kids who couldn't finish their dishes. But then C was like "wauw, you ate it all so quickly!" and I felt like... I dunno, not a pig, but out of place. As I've gotten older, I really try to finish my plates now, because I was so picky as a child... and to get rid of that impression my dad has of me, because I DO eat my salads, dammit.

I tried to find a middle ground. When we were out eating lunch, I practised eating slowly, and taking little bites. Drank a lot, talked a lot, and eventually C finished before me. Felt really good, in every way. I know it's healthy to eat slowly, so I think I'll try to continue doing that. And I started leaving a little bit on the plates at dinner. All better. Still too much food. C agreed with me, she just threw up because her stomach wasn't used to it. I say it's bullshit, because she used to eat just fine a few months ago. Only difference is she's on a diet. I'm not sure what I'm thinking.

I found out that I love scrambled eggs on crispbread.

And that things served cold that ought to be hot disgust me. Some of the starters were tough.

Now, I'm trying to get back in balance, to regain the ability to pull in my stomach and feel hungry in between meals. I'll suceed within a few days, no doubt.

And tomorrow... my life will possibly lose its meaning. I'll at least have to think of a new one.

I do so look forward to it... and then again... I dread it with every fiber of my body. This is my childhood. Maybe it's a sign?

So much fucking time has gone by since then. Ugh, I find it hard to cope with. I'm not gonna dress up and stuff, I'm just going to watch it with my mom, bawl my eyes out, and possibly re-read the books while we're in the summerhouse. Sigh. This is my liiiiiiiife, and it's OVER. Or just complete.