My Insecurities

Sometime I just get them feels. Those feels that make me so sad I wish I was still small enough to crawl under my table. Or fit into one of those music lockers that Ronnie used to squish into. It’s like my heart is really heavy and I want to be alone. Like my stomach is all scrunchy like it wants to crawl away. It makes me feel like I want to eat. Just so that I have something to do to stop my eyes from watering. It’s not even like anything is particularly sad in my life. It’s just me. Just me sad. It’s not as bad these days. It was worse before. When I had stopped talking to all my friends and all I did was go to work, come home and sleep then go to uni, work, sleep. It was all I did. It made me feel so exhausted all the time. No matter what. I would fall asleep the second I sat down at home. But sleeping made me forget about how shitty the rest of my life was. I was so sick of how people treated me. But then I made new friends and it was okay and it’s getting better. But every so often I still have those days where I am home not necessarily alone but I feel it so much. But I want to feel it. It’s moments like these where I notice my worthlessness. I can’t seem to do anything right. Even the things I can’t change aren’t right. 

Lately I’ve gained weight. I’ve been gaining weight and it’s getting to the point that I’m noticing it. My boyfriend will put his arm around my waist and I can feel him touching the rolls of fat on my stomach. I sit down with a skirt on and my legs has dimples and cellulite and it’s one of the most horrifying things. Then I go home and I eat. I eat until I feel okay. Which sometimes doesn’t happen. So I eat until I fall asleep. I hate that I should be doing something about it. I should be fixing myself. But I don’t have the self-control to fix myself. I think it’s worse because I’m just too used to being super skinny. I was a very chubby child but after year 4 I lost all that baby weight and I’ve been stick thin ever since no matter what I ate. I took advantage of that and now I’m paying for it. My clothes don’t fit anymore. My skirts pull at my stomach and I have to suck in. My shirts seem smaller and show more stomach. The fat that hangs over the top of my pants makes me sick to my stomach. I’ve never had this problem and I’m not dealing with it well. 

People ask why I don’t update this all the time. This is why. Because most of the time I just have negative thoughts. And people say don’t be stupid, you’re still skinny/pretty/whatever. But I don’t see it. I can’t see it. I don’t feel it. 

And that’s it. That’s how I feel lately. You’d think it’d get easier as you got older but now I’m just harder on myself. I plan on doing everything I can to lose weight. I can’t afford a new wardrobe so all I can do is lose weight. It’s made me feel so insecure as well. I’ve started noticing other people and their better parts and how much better they are than me. I’ve always been one to compare but I’ve never had any reason to doubt myself and lately that’s all I’ve been doing. I don’t deal with things well ugh 

 

#vent

If Only..

So, I think I’ve found my calling. After spending the past three days holed up in my room writing essays and watching Cake Boss, I have decided that once again, my life calling is to be a cake decorator. There is something about making something beautiful for another person, that they can be as proud of as I am that makes it the ultimately appealing occupation. That, and the fact that you get to eat all of the delicious food you make. There’s something appealing about the fondant and butter cream that really pulls me in. Making edible, realistic looking objects and making people feel ultimately good about an occasion is just such a pleasing thing. And I mean, who wouldn’t want to be a part of something so beautiful. 

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(I apologise for the shoddy-quality image, I do have the DVD however it has become apparent to me that you cannot screenshot a DVD on a mac and therefore I had to use YouTube)

But seriously, look at that beautiful botanically-correct cake. Every single one of those flowers was made by hand and painted to be perfect. You can see the effort that went into the cake and the small details, just ugh. This is food porn at its finest people. 

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I understand of course that I’d have to start at the bottom, possibly at one of those teeny weeny cupcake stalls that have appeared in many shopping centres as of late.. But eventually, I’d get there. Ultimate goal – of course – to work in Carlo’s Bakery in Hoboken. (This of course is a good joke as I’ve never even considered leaving Perth, but if they were to bring one here, I’d totally go for it) But I could totally stick it out, I could be brilliant.. If only I could use a piping bag.