Uncomfortable Within Myself And A Day Of Shitty Junk Food
I’m so frustrated at the minute. I didn’t run at all last week thanks to my foot, but the truth is I could have ran today but didn’t as I’m a lazy cunt.
I worked so hard over the summer to get fitter, lose weight and be healthy and over the course of 2 “fun” months I managed to totally fuck my body up. I am still my own worst enemy.
I spent today in bed . The reason I don’t go outside anymore is that I’m really fucking self conscious again. Stale, sweaty, bloated, fucked in the head. It’s easier to sit inside and do nothing. I’ll run later, tomorrow, next week, when the weather’s good or when I’m feeling better. Yeah.
I made 3 trips today and all involved getting junk food.
For breakfast I went to Sainsbury’s and I bought a Lindor teddy bear and bit it’s fucking head off. Chocolatey, numb, sugar cunt. Don’t have to think when eating. Revel in chocolatey goodness. Pretend I’m paddling downstream on a boat made from chocolate in a river with even more chocolate in it. No thinking allowed. Pretend you’re in a chocolate commercial. Drift away. Mmmmm. Diabetes, rickets, space AIDS, Ebola fucker.
Then for lunch I went to the chicken shop. I was gonna get my usual order of 6 wings but the staff are so fucking used to me being in there they say “6 wings?” before I’m fully through the fucking door. I proved her wrong by ordering a Variety Box. Winner.
I then watched an entire series of the Canadian version of Intervention on Youtube thinking “at least I’m not as much of an addict as these cunts!” whilst dropping more chicken batter on the floor. Pretty. That’s 7 visits in 7 days now. At least I’m fucking consistent.
That’s when the real fun began. There’s nothing worse than lying in bed jammed full of chocolate chicken hate. An inspirational little cunt. Planning my next book where I’ll travel around England in a mobility scooter reviewing chicken shops. Yeah. Could even get Chicken Cottage, KFC or Dixy’s Chicken to sponsor me and let them put little stickers on the back of my scooter to raise money. Yeah.
I finished the day off with a McDonalds Strawberry Milkshake and it was just the usual frozen shit. Should probably drink water. Become vegan. Pure. Attain world peace. Become a hippy. Wank myself into an early grave whilst learning bongoes. Pure at heart, pure of spirit, pure fucking machine. Strip away all humanity and weakness and became a muscular sex vessel.
I’m tired of being so compulsive. I don’t even know what I’m running from inside my head. Is it the boredom? Fuck knows. There’s definitely something wrong in there. It would be too easy to say that I’m depressed but I’m not. It’s all down to those last few months of bad living and I’m paying the price now.
Am I making shit any easier for myself? No. I’m eating shit to stop feeling like shit now but it’s just the same old routine of making things worse for myself tomorrow.