I'm getting bigger every day.

Today is one of those days. I woke to the sound of a hairdryer blowing, my body smothered by piles on the bed. To open your eyes and immediately wonder in light whether it is the environment that is a mess or only yourself - what a way to spend time, if only a moment or two, it's too much! I know. Danced my tush off last night, after eating a six course meal. Walked east, hoping open air would pacify my nausea. Men everywhere. My ears hanging onto their words. After awhile all the eyes make me feel grotesque. They watch me become more, watch me be less. Today is one of those days I wish I were lighter. My skin tighter, my hunger controlled. Of course, last night wouldn't have been able to happen had I been unwilling to eat. This body I'm in never feels like mine because it is always changing, always shaping itself and deforming who I see myself as. These thoughts make me less of a person, although because of them I am who I am. It's just tough, confusing really, when you don't know if you'll make it in language, and when so many people tell you to use your image to succeed. That I can, that I should, that ultimately I will. It's terrible the comments - the compliments; how they make me feel pressure to maintain some ideal, that isn't natural nor maintainable.