I'm fat, fat, fat.
And unpleasant. And bitchy and controlling and a big fat fucking mess.
And I want to be better than this by February. By my birthday. But I'm just a fat pig cow instead who can't be nice to the one person who needs and deserves it for putting up with all my shit.
If he ever strayed, it would be my fault anyway, right?
Skinny. And nice.
I think I need drugs.