My previous post was balls-out about empowerment and not caving to society’s pressures to be a certain ideal.
Today, I realise I am not taking care of myself, and while I don’t want to look like a Hollywood doll churned out by the Plastic Surgery Machine, I also don’t want to look like I can’t be fucked doing anything about my health and wellbeing.
See that? Even that phrase, “I don’t want to look like”. Now I’ve outed myself, because the kicker is that the reason I want to get my health back on track is not solely because I want to live well and feel well and appreciate my health and my life and the world, it’s because I’m starting to look gross.
So I’m just as superficial as everyone else. Bleccccccccccccccch. I sent a msg to the boy about how I look like a wombat. A round ball of no discernable shape. Cute as they are, they are just … round. I don’t want to be a wombat.
I’ve also tried, tried and tried and tried again, to get up early to get my writing done and about 90% of the time so far I have failed, failed failed.
I keep telling myself, “If you want to stop starting from scratch, then stop giving up“.
So I’ve failed. Well, fuck it. I’m gonna keep failing untill I don’t fail anymore. Which I WILL DO. I will get there. I have to be less of a “it’s all over” type of person.
And so … this leads me to lunch. Healthy salad it is, then …