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< / > monsters? July 11, 2006 *~* 9:35 p.m. I feel quiet and lonely. Sometimes I feel fat, but I'm thinner than I've been. I look healthy and slim and good. I can run when I need to and walk to school quickly and climb stairs. I can open doors and do push-ups (not well, but hey). I can eat what I want, generally, and when, and I don't feel too bad about it afterward. I think I eat less than most when I'm put on my own, but that's okay. There's still an appropriate soft layer over my sharp bone edges. I remember trying to go to movies with Cedric and not being able to sit still because my ass bones poked too much, and I couldn't lean on him because my shoulder blades were too sharp. You've come a long way, baby. I wish GM would come home. When my mommy and sister were here, I feel like she as good as gave me permission to repierce my nose. This might be a prime example of why she and I have communication difficulties and why I make decisions that don't seem too bad to me at the time but end up seriously upsetting her. BUT, she must have looked around Portland and seen the ridiculous amounts of pierced noses and decided maybe it isn't quite so awful as she thought it was, because she told me that she figured that I would pierce my nose again and that there wasn't much she could do about it. While recognizing that this is in no way an explicit permission, it does seem like accepting the inevitable. And the problem is, it hadn't really occurred to me to pierce it again, but now that she's said that, I keep checking out Leah's nose and wondering if I have $80 to blow on an extra hole in my face. I definitely don't, and I can't imagine it'd go over well to do it right now, but I did always really really like that piercing. I thought it looked good and fit well into my face. I have nice grooves in the side of my nose that are prime piercing areas. Some time. I like those permanent changes I make to my body to have serious thought and/or meaning. People ask me what my tattoo means, and I always sort of brush off the question and don't offer an explanation, but it means quite a bit to me as a tattoo itself, not so much the design. In retrospect, I should have put more thought into a particularly symbolic picture, but I'm totally pleased with what it is anyway. I like it for the fact that I got it with Amanda, that I got it just before I went to college, and because it was my stake on my body, a visible and permanent claim that I am my own. That I like being solidly within myself (at least in theory, I'm bad at that in practice) and that I won't be hurt and invaded and hospitalized and broken by whatever circumstances. It's mine and you cannot touch or change that ink upon me. No one, not even me (hopefully), can fuck me up anymore. I had intended to get a nose piercing when I ran a marathon, but I ended up getting it with Alli during the first few weeks of freshman year. That was a nice bonding experience, and another claim. I think that was an admittance that the marathon running goal was created in the depths of starvation and exercise addiction and ultimately not a healthy goal for me at that time. I do what I feel! I think, in so many words, that's exactly what it's all been about. If I got another tattoo, it'd be this Arabic symbol that means "my heart." I've decided I can get that if and after I go to Spain on my own and sucessfully don't get depressed or bone thin or lost on any of many levels. Then and only then. My heart's fine now, if anyone's interested, though I have lost some weight and started working out since that test. When was that? That week I was home? Winter break? Winter break. I am fine now. I am well within normal limits, apparently. I feel like my body and I are constantly at odds with each other, despite all positive thoughts and recovery. We have different ideas and goals and wishes and only occasionally is there an agreeable compromise. It goes. |