i don't feel good don't bother me.

i really wish my mother would listen to me sometimes. it's pissing me off, a lot. she's been yelling at me a lot because there's really nothing vegan left in the fridge, and she hasn't seen me eating lately. that doesn't mean i haven't been eating. unfortunately. so just to shut her up-- and because i can't stick to my plans if all the food i'm comfortable eating is unavailable-- i asked her if we could go buy groceries. she said she was busy (watching television) but she'd be ready soon (or, you know, in ninety minutes).

i asked her if we could go to walmart, which isn't a huge thing to most people, but i really fucking hate small supermarkets. but no, why should we go all the way there? no, let's go to the small supermarket down the road. gee, thanks mom. i swear, i feel like everyone's always looking in your cart when you're in those places. at least in a bigger store-- at least the size of your standard walmart-- you can zip around, never lingering long enough for people to look in your cart, or at your face, or at your ungodly figure. (unless that god is buddha. but i digress.) and what's more, it's so fucking intimate. i kept running into this woman who kept glancing at the things i was getting and mumbling, "hmm, maybe i need that too..."

that's not even the worst part. i had a very specific list of things i was going to buy. obviously, i didn't factor in going to a store i was unfamiliar with. so i had to take some things off of the list as soon as i walked in, because i just knew they wouldn't have it. and on top of it, every time i was about to pick up something, my mother would either watch me like a hawk, or say she had that in the fridge already. like apples. pink lady apples. i love those. we don't have those in our house. in fact, we didn't have any fruit in our house. except for some moldy strawberries and soft apples. i hate soft apples, they're so offensive. anyway, she kept following me around and adding things to the cart and making comments on what i was getting. i was really close to losing my grip in public.

and it's not even bad enough that she makes me feel bad for not asking for groceries. she has to make me feel guilty for needing her to buy groceries. what the fuck? when i didn't want groceries, that was a problem. now i'm asking for groceries, and suddenly it's like i deserve the death penalty? my favorite part was when she said, "stop walking like that. you look like you're depressed. it's embarrassing." i wonder, mother, what in the world could i be depressed about? hmm... maybe living with you? for starters?

so that was the last straw. or the straw that broke the camel's back. or some bizzare combination of both of those. i tried. she can't say i didn't. i may not have been eating in front of her, but after my grandmother died, i did try eating a little more normally. just a little. i even went to a burger place and got a veggie burger. with a group of people. (no side of fries, of course.) and i even started showing my face at church-- which was a huge mistake, because literally everyone and their mother can't stop talking about weight. why? who knows anymore?

but you know what? fuck it. fuck her, fuck supermarkets, fuck buying groceries, fuck appearing normal, fuck what other people think, fuck it all.

i don't have time for this.

honestly.