Something is going to happen. I keep telling myself it's going to work out soon.
I think I'm getting chubby. I'm too down about this Pencil Skirt shit to really focus on my weight right now. Maybe I'll just get fat over Christmas and sort it out afterwards.
Wish I wasn't so hungry, but my god I'm starving. I eat when I'm sad, that's the worst way to be.
I have yet another Pencil Skirt day scheduled for tomorrow, hoisting myself up on that lifeline I mentioned earlier. Coffee with Two Sugars. Maybe that will work out. Perhaps I'll manage to climb up onto that life line after all and I'll be a Falcon. A Falcon not flying anywhere but with the beginnings of wings none the less. That would be something at least.
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