I do this alot dont I? I blog for months. Scrolling away my life. And then I disapear. But I always come back lovelies. <3 p="">
Where to begin. Let's see, after a couple of boyfriends past Matt, I met this guy named Mark.
It was basically love at first sight. We're now engaged. (My ring is fucking amazing)
Let me fill you in on the caveat to this relationship.
So, he was married before, and technically still is (by paper, but not by actions and shit) him and his wife (she beast, Sarah, bitch, crazy hoe, all synonymous) still live together.
Seems fishy right? Well I had to inquire (before we got together so no worries)
Long story short when Mark was in Iraq, so as Sarahs brother (under Mark's command or whatever) and her brother was killed. Sarah (none of her family does, just Sarah) blames Mark. He tried for another year, and she ignored is exsistence.
He's told me stories of her (she microwaved a burrito for 40 minutes because she didn't know the difference between a conventional and microwave oven) or she stole his credit card and bought Louboutins.
When he was in Iraq, she wouldn't send him goodies, or nudes, or any sweet letters. She would send him toothpaste and deoderant. She has called him fat (he's extremly buff, like, seriously this bitch is nuts) for years.
She has never had to take care of herself. Literally doesn't even know how to pay the bills.
She is an idiot. She told him that he was the cause of her eating disorder.
Let's hold up and focus on this for a second.
Sorry bitch, every single god damn person I know with an eating disorder is the sweetest person I know. They would never ever ever tell another person they were fat (to their face if at all) because the NEVER want anyone to feel the pain they're going through. Secondly, I don't believe any of us have blamed anyone else but ourselves for our disorder. Every time he talks about her is a massive trigger for me.
She's pretty. And thin.
And, you would think she's just a spoiled rich bitch right? No. She doesn't come from money (he met her when she was a waitress at a diner, and currently she works at Sports Authority).
She has no school accolades.
She doesn't like cleaning and can't cook.
She hates having sex.
She doesn't want children.
She's described her perfect an as someone who is handsome, rich, and doesn't expect her to work, or raise kids. And apparently have sex. Nice try bitch.
Gotta give it up somewhere.
I dont know. Something in me makes me want to make this bitches life a living hell.
She is terrible to Mark, calls him fat, told him I was a gold digger (I make more money then Mark) and so on.
She actually told him he OWED HER to take care of her.
BYE FELICIA.
I fucking hate this bitch.
We're moving into our own place in 12 days, and it's not soon enough. She is trying everything to "win him back" no bitch. NOPE.
I fucking hate her with every fiber of my being.
When she comes up in subject I shake with anger, and then get extremly triggered.
Eating has been hard, I haven't been able to cook in over a year due to not being able to use the kitchen at my house.
So I eat out. Everyday.
I'm fat and I hate it.
I'm so bloated and fat and ugly, I look like a whale.
Once we move into our place it will be so much easier for me to not eat unhealthy, and not eat at all. I never want to eat again.
I hate food, and I hate what it does to me.
I want to be a twig. I don't even care. I want my collarbones and ribs to show, my wrists to pop out dauntingly, and to fit in everything
I hate food.
Sorry for rambeling and being specific in some parts and vague in another. I'm not currently in the mood to celebrate ll the wonderful things going on as of late, and my next post I plan on posting pictures.
I'm back lovelies.
