fearless girl gone chicken-shit.

i found my diary (diaries, really) from when i was younger. man, i was a weird little kid. the entire first half of my diary from when i was six is just me saying who's fat and who's skinny in my classes. (the rest of it was filled with disturbingly accurate inferences about my family, which were only confirmed by time.) i always ended up with the skinny half of the class. i didn't really notice until i looked at class pictures but i really was ridiculously skinny when i was younger. i went to private school, and my stockings and sweater were really loose. yeah, tons of little kids are skinny. but i can't help feeling proud of myself.

that reminds me of this day in second grade when they served beans, rice and salad for lunch. with something else. i don't really remember. but i only ate the salad and refused to touch the other stuff. then the lunch lady tried to make me eat. but i wouldn't. not until my dad had to leave work to come to the school and make me eat. let me just say, my younger self was pretty badass.

my ten year old self was slightly less hardcore, in her gymnastics leotard. at least, directly in front of the teachers. but she wreaked her fair share of havoc. stink bombs, food fights, detention (if i got caught) on several occasions-- and people thought i was a good kid? how did my parents cover those up? of course, my eleven year old self also had the balls to curse out her sister in front of her father, a level i really don't think i'll ever get back to.

and the nerve of my fifteen year old self! she hung out with her twenty year old friend for five hours because she felt like it, got home at nine, got in a shitload of trouble and had the nerve to go to her room proud of it. i mean, she wouldn't have written a twelve page story for her sister (who apparently can't do her own homework) without compensation and she certainly wouldn't have lent her twenty dollars on top of it. so there you go. i'm half the girl i used to be.

what a shame.

on a brighter note, i've developed some sort of kitchen-related OCD. so i need to have the kitchen in a certain way before i can make food to eat. it's funny, because all i need it to be is clean, but my family keeps messing that up. also, the food turned out amazing. (mainly the zatarain's rice mix/boca burger thing.) it was binge-worthy. and i would have done it, if it wasn't for my hungry hippo mother who not only took half of the entire pot (and some for lunch the next day), but also finished it when she got home yesterday. don't you hate/love when you finally decide, "i'm going to eat this," and someone ruins it for you? it's like, i really wanted to eat that...but i guess it's best that i didn't. well, crisis averted. (and calories avoided.) i think the trauma of that moment threw me off of this awful plateau i've been on. a sixth of a pound. (oh, wow.) hopefully, it just keeps going down.

i've got to make it up to my younger self. maybe i'll do something reckless this weekend. but in the long term, the only way to make it up to her would be to get back to that size, where not even a small was small enough. this time, i'll try not to label other people based on their weight.

or at least have the heart to not write it down.



jackie said...

Haha I want to meet 6 year old you. She sounds like my kind of girl.

I know how you feel about the rice. My brother drank the smoothie I made for myself today, the little bugger.

ascendancy. said...

Isn't that scary when you look through old diaries and pretty much EVERYTHING you have guessed or noted has come to frutition?

We are so observant as children.


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