I am six-foot-one. I am two hundred pounds. I am a size 12. I am a 36/38 C/D. I have a size twelve shoe. I have green eyes. I have freckles. My hair is brownish blonde but I dye it red. My eyes are green. I have tattoos.
And I hate most of these things. I hate that. I want to weight 185. I want to be a size 10. I want to be strictly a 36 C. But I can't keep dreaming of that. I really just need to learn to accept what I am. Not what. Who.
But it sucks. Because I miss being a weight that made me happy. HONESTLY. 185 made me HAPPY. Size 10 made me HAPPY. I hate that. I hate that I sound so vain. I hate that I can't be happy without that.
I just want to lose that weight. I need to learn to be not so... vain? I guess? I blame my medication but I can't go off it. And I'm afraid to try other medications because this cocktail works so well. Thanks bipolar for fucking everything up.
Oh well.
I need to learn to accept that that's who I am.
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