I'm offline today because

I'm freaking the hell out.

I'm supposed to lose weight. So says my doctor. I wouldn't mind doing so for my own reasons—like a single digit pant size (I have too much rack to ever have a single digit dress size again).

But the doctor is persistent. Pushy almost. I dislodge my kneecap in my sleep and I get crap about my weight.

I look for more effective migraine solutions, I get crap about my weight.

I get it. I weigh more than the ideal at my height.
But the way to go about that was not to say nothing about an unrelated visit and prescribe a screening for "obesity."

I have been paranoid since then. Every calorie gets counted. Even the negligible 2 from brewed tea. If I want a luxury snack I skip the day before so I can have it.

I avoid my mirror because my face looks fat. Everything does in the mirror. I've been considering covering it with something so I don't have to see it.

I've had maybe 650 calories today. Not enough.

I know I should eat.

I look at my fridge and I freeze.

I'm about one standard cuil from asking it for a hamburger. Hell it might answer.

I should eat...

*looks at fridge*

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