Falling

I have to begin by saying thank you for all the positive comments.

I was really moved. Things are still on a general low, and there have been lots more tears and screaming with my mum, but I'm staying strong through it all :)

And the maintenance has finally broken!!!!! Oh so happy, oh so worth it.

I feel very empty and numb at the moment, which is very unsual for me. I'm usually either bouncing off the walls or pumped with emotion, caught up in my own great big desructive tornado.

I think it's my current job.

7am to 10pm at a desk...doing nothing...braindead...souldead.

Go home to sleep and then do it all again.

just over two weeks to go and then its over, thank God.

Why haven't I blogged for a week? A head full of beauty numbed with boredom.

At least when I'm chaotic I know I'm alive.

My job, however, has taught me that I have another obsession which equals my obsession with food.

To regular readers, this may come as no surprise. I need male attention. I need someone to flirt with. I need a target; someone to dress up for, look good for.

At university it was easy, loads of choice.

Here...well, less so... a lot less so.

I'm just this thing at a desk. And I need attention. Verification. Approval... Oh I don't even fucking know what it is. I need a guy to target.

When it comes to guys my age, I'd say I could find about 30% of them attractive. When it comes to men over 25, I'd say say that this falls to less than 1%. Sigh, no young meat here that meets my requirements.

With one exception...age 28 perhaps? I'm too paranoid to name him because this is work, not uni where boys and reputations don't matter or don't exist. Let's call him 'C'.

It's been a stupidly long time since my heart has gone wild, pumping ferociously out of my chest, shaking as I reach for the phone... "Shall I call 'him' to come up then?" Yes.

"Hi...it's Ophelia..."

I dreamt last night I left a small white rose tucked into the handle of his bag.

I dreamt our eyes met over our computer screens and we smiled.

A part of me thinks that this is just me looking for someone to fancy, decieving myself that I have feelings for 'C' just to keep some sort of sensation in my body. Because I can't justify it any other way. I mean he's good looking, but there's nothing SPECIAL. Except that my senses start exploding like fireworks when he's around.

Today, I'm ok, sitting here with glasses, shit makeup, looking half dead. But when he was in the room with me the last two days, I was rushing to the toilet every half an hour, redoing my hair, redoing my makeup, prodding every inch of my fat, sucking my cheeks in, standing to face him at my best angle, being, basically compeletly manic obsessive over every detail of my appearance and unable to de-focus from the fact that he was watching me.

He wasn't watching me.

I've known this extreme link between men and my BDD for a long while, but if it's true that I only like this guy because I want something to do/feel then my whole obsessiveness with my looks and weight is entirely stupid and pathetic.

When I don't put this ridiculous pressure on myself to look perfect and impress people, I can sit here stress free. And yet I NEED this pressure and I NEED to look perfect to impress people so I NEED to bully and torment myself to reach an acceptable standard.

I panic every time I talk to him, heart in my throat, calling on my perfect-girl-persona. For all I know, he has a girlfriend. I can't imagine that he's single let alone imagining that he likes me.

OH FUCK I'M AN IDIOT.

My thoughts are so empty that he's all I can think about.

Where has all my courage gone? Where is my outrageous flirting. There is no place for me in this real, adult world. I am too ugly and fat to stand up with pride. When I catch his eye I look away again as if I didn't see him. If I could feel good about myself I would flaunt it - in his fucking face.

Want me.

Want me.

Want me.

Look how luscious my body is.

I want a body to parade.

A body with power.

No, I've worked it out.

Why I'm doing this to myself, why I need a man to obsess over and torment myself about. To keep me focused on my body. I keep me on track, in progress.

Keep me falling in love, falling, falling, weight keep falling.