Hello again, oh invisible audience! Once again I shall pretend anybody is reading this! As unpopular as I am, I think I could just as easily pretend this is a journal that no one will ever read.

As you all know, I'm fat. I'm a big girl. Been that way as long as I remember. Looking at chubby little girls now, all I can think is, "she better be funny or damn smart." Most of them look like little rednecks in training, but I try not to judge.

Still, there are days where I feel sexy. Not in a normal way, not at all. I look at blonde size sixes and know that my body type will never be more preferable in the public's eye. But hey, I'm not meant to appeal to the public. Who wants to be anyway? What I am looking for, though, is that one eye that I catch on a day when my hair is bouncing and vibrant and my walk is smooth and confident. I feel like I could tackle anything on those few precious days.

But it's so seldom I catch an eye. They're all glazed over, fogged by this haze of skinny bitches and tiny tits. I've got more bounce, more roll, more depth, more creativity built up in me that only a handful of men have even bothered looking for.

What kills me is that the one who loved me the most for it, the one who loved the thing I hate most about myself, he was the one I could never really trust. It ripped us apart, that I didn't trust him and he didn't understand me. Dug me, yes. But didn't understand me.

Last movie I saw: Death Proof. Not among my favorite Tarantino films. the Kill Bills still have it. I think my favorite parts of the movie were the allusions to his other films and seeing Tracie Thoms talk shit behind the wheel of that Charger.

More later, bitches! Behave.