I'll Tell You This Much Is True
25 October 2007 at 3:02 pm

So even though I'm actually in better shape than I've been in since I was Ms Super Trifecta Athlete at boarding school (swimming, basketball, and softball), I'm back to Fat Morgan. It's been driving me crazy, mostly because when I can't deal with anything else I freak out about my weight, and so I've finally decided it's because I've fucked up my metabolism so royally that I can't do a goddamn thing about it but wait it out. Seeing as how I quit smoking cold turkey, lived off 200 calories a day for a month so that I wouldn't gain weight, started smoking pot when I got back from Spain and subsequently ate everything in sight, quit smoking pot, cut down on my drinking a lot, accidentally quit drinking coffee, and have been blatantly feeding my feelings (even if with primarily fruits and veggies) and replacing sex with food like whoa, even though I work out for at least two hours a day, my body is like, "Fuck you, we're bringing belly back, and you can JUST! FUCKING! DEAL! with it." Some of the chub has gone to my chest, so there's that.

And yes, I will complain about going from a size zero to a size six in two months when homes are being destroyed mere hours away from my house because, let's face it, I'm petty and self-absorbed and totally okay with it.

J moved out, leaving the house empty save for D -- who bizarrely just called right then when I was replacing her name with her first initial -- and Damien and me, and so the home life is under control. There are things I could bitch about in that arena, I'm sure, but I'm so numb at life in general right now that I can't bring myself to care about anything but working out several times a day.

I did have a nice weekend, though, hanging out with Jason on Saturday night before work. He's the epitome of the nice guy who finishes dead last, which is too bad because he's a funny, smart, totally cute, genuine sweetheart, but...he lets women walk all over him. And I am so over being attracted to That kind of male (otherwise, our one date wouldn't have been so deliciously ill-fated). I'll have to write a whole other entry about the several people in my life who have noticed how much I take care of the people around me and subsequently asked who takes care of me, but he's the one person who noticed that, didn't verbalize it, and makes it a point to get me to tell him what's going on in my life. At this point, he knows more about the Spain situation than anybody, which is kind of bizarre. We have great rapid-fire conversations full of well-placed insults, in-jokes, and wit, and I can ask him favors and he always comes through, and he offers to do Nice Guy things that I would never dream of asking anyone for (like, uh, calling me at 4am to make sure I'm awake to catch a flight to Spain. Or offering to pick up my drunkenly abandoned car after finding me in bed with another guy. Wow, my stories sound so much more exciting when I phrase them like that).

Huh, I put off updating because I felt like there wasn't anything new to report, but actually, there's a lot of new stuff.

My brother's dealing with a breakup right now--man, did every break up this yaer or what?--and he is just a fucking mess. I'm his go-to gal, his numero uno BFF, his vault, so that means that we've been talking several times a day at all hours of the night. I like being the person people can depend on in times of strife; but then we get right back to, who do I depend on? That person was, for so long, Aaron. He was my emotional crutch, my source of sanity, the person who kept me out of therapy and off the pills aus freude the past five years, and that's been the most difficult part about all of this, losing the person I could freak out on without regret, so now I just freak out and people don't know what to do with me. I don't regret breaking up with him by any means, but that doesn't mean I don't miss my best friend.

I'll tell you one thing Spain did for me: if I had a hard time opening up about myself before, it's going to be goddamn impossible for new people to get me to talk about myself. Which I'm really okay with, for right now. See? Even in my locked diary, I spend most of the time talking about the tangential drama in my life. Christ. This is getting kind of pathetic, but I'm still just...not ready to deal.

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About me
Hi. Morgan, 27, of Santa Barbara, CA. I am a hypocritical admirer of rhetoric (when it is my own) and an observer of literary trends. A secret: I don't take anything very seriously, and that includes myself.