01.03.02 :: 10:20 am

My stomach makes its own songs this morning. She'll get fed later. More salad and beans because my overeating has taken a turn.

Size six maybe next month.

Sometimes I wonder what I'm thinking, how blatantly unfeminist of me and would Kathleen Hanna care what people thought of her little beer belly?

And then I see that annoying girl from high school modeling wedding dresses I'm looking at and I'm torn between craving the svelte, and hoping she pokes her eyes out with those pointy hipbones.

You can't be happy being five-ten and a size four.

This is absolute and scientific.

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