My behaviour is beginning to upset people

Lately my tongue has been harder to hold. My brain/mouth filter is cracking, splintering and failing me. Occasionally I actually say what I’m REALLY thinking and it’s going to get me in trouble...

I think I have a finite quantity of focus.

And right now it’s all used up on believing that I am MEANT to be thin.

So things are... slipping through.

Exhibit A: Discussing fat people.

Right. I think fat people are disgusting. I’m not ashamed of my opinions, but generally it’s something I keep to myself PARTICULARLY as my boyfriend’s mother is... somewhat rotund. And sensitive about it.

In my opinion, they should just put down the fucking cake. Stop having crisps for breakfast. You DO NOT NEED a plate of food heaving with fats and carbs. Its disgusting, the lack of self control that can allow someone to eat and eat and EAT until they reach obesity. I imagine the sweat between a pair of glistening stomach rolls and vomit (water and acid technically) rises in my throat. An obese person sits next to me on the bus and I shift in discomfort, and imagine a certain distinct... smell. Of course, it may not be entirely imagined, the warm damp conditions inside a fat fold are fucking IDEAL to cultivate MOULD (this is actually accurate btw, look it up and shudder in nausea with me).

I understand thyroid problems, glandular problems, retaining water. To a degree. But my initial instinct whenever I encounter an overweight person is to wonder if they REALLY needed the two pizzas they probably had for lunch or to presume they’re just retaining the grease soaked carbs they shovelled in at breakfast that day. And EVERY day for the last fucking DECADE.

Revolting.

But generally I’m pretty awesome at compartmentalising my crazy, biting my tongue, smiling tightly and feigning sympathy for the poor fat fucks.

But no more, apparently.

Extended family meal. Close friend of the family brings up obesity. My mouth opens and the filter is GONE.

Forth spews a stream of disgusted vitriol, and I just can’t seem to STOP myself. Despite the pointed kicks and looks from my boyfriend, my mouth just WON’T STOP. And I can see his mother turning pink over her steaming bowl of syrup sponge and custard, and appearing uncomfortable with the turn of conversation, but still, I do not relent. Under the guise of friendly heated discussion I continue to attempt to hammer home my point, as if I somehow expected her to eventually agree.

Then – PING! Back to reality and I realised exactly what was coming out of my mouth. FUCK! I immediately excused myself before I could do any more damage.

Exhibit B: Baking

My boyfriend’s mother is a baking whiz. And she knows it. She points it out and rubs it in at every available opportunity as if to INTENTIONALLY grate on my last nerve. Generally I pull out the tight smile, phase out her words and nod interestedly until she’s finished explaining in EXCRUCIATING DETAIL with a bright smile how we are wrong and she is, inevitably, right.

Not this time, apparently.

THIS time, I whirl on her furiously and literally SNARL at her to get to the point, before realising my slip, whipping out the tight smile and the wide eyed innocence and hoping to GOD she wasn’t about to reply with an equally sarky comment. Mainly because I wasn’t entirely sure I could hold back the roiling mass of foulness and cruelty I had barely leashed in the back of my mouth.

I would have destroyed her.

She’s too sensitive.

And I can be SO malicious.

But it was fine, I quickly threw out an apology then pulled the confused, yet very convincing ‘Ohmigod, did I just snap at you? I didn’t mean to, I’m SO sorry it came out like that!’

And nothing more was said about it.

Thank fuck.

Exhibit C can be illustrated by just this;

“Are you okay?”
“NO I’M NOT OKAY! ARE YOU FUCKING BLIND!?”

An increasingly common occurrence.

Weird, huh?

Bits of my facade of confident amusement and claims of ‘making my disorder work for me’ are beginning to fall away to expose the screaming, frightened, angry and CRAZY woman beneath. I’m not sure how long I can hold on anymore, sometimes I am literally SHAKING with the effort of not lashing out verbally or even physically over a small annoyance. It appears to be getting worse and I have been referred to a psychiatrist.

Recently, I nearly punched one of my closest friends since I was 12 in the face.

I turned to her after the baking incident, facade sort of back in place and muttered my amusement at requiring psychiatric help, to which she, somewhat callously, replied with something along the lines of; ‘perhaps you should use some of your newfound self control’. And dear GOD I actually found myself straightening my back, squaring my shoulders and realising just how much taller than her I am (while we wear a similar size, she’s six inches shorter than me). I imagined breaking her face. Making her hurt. Making her BLEED*. Just for a second though, then out came my ever present tight smile.

And it was all FINE.

Facade back.

Disaster averted.

I promise I WILL write part 2 of The Backstory soon, but y’know, shit’s still happening :)

Love you guys

*And I’m generally PACIFIST, make love not war, calm down and have a fucking spliff kinda girl