I've gained boatloads of weight. Or should I say bloat-loads of weight. (Har har puns.) It could be all the bread and cookies and cookies and cookies and sometimes a few cookies I've been eating. I don't know. Maybe the cheese at every meal? The peanut butter and Nutella? I cannot wait to be out of the house, distracted by French classes and in my routine of not eating much but exercising lots. I just want to be skinny again. The fat is bubbling upon around my thighs. Jeans look ridiculous on me. Skirts are my safe-haven but even those make me look pudgy. Can anyone really ever hide weight gain? I don't think so.


I just want to pretend my ankle is not in pain. That it will magically heal on its own. That I don't need to do anything in particular to rescue it. That I can workout on it and it won't hurt. I can't lose my workouts. I can't lose my salvation. I want to be so busy I can hardly stand up. I want to be exhausted from working out. Not really...but kind of. I don't want to think. Faith is such a burden. I mean that believing there is another way forces you to be honest that you're not seeking that way. That you've screwed up. That you're not all you should be. It is somewhat hopeful but also exhausting. I'm not saying I wish we were all doomed but...I don't know. Sometimes I think it'd be easier to live with.