Big fat massive pigs

One day, one big fat massive pig said to the other big fat massive pig, "my god, you're one big fat massive pig."
And this big fat massive pig said back to that big fat massive pig, "I know, but so are you, Q."

(<< Look at this girl's legs. I WANT THOSE LEGS.)

Breakfast was great. Breakfast was fan-bloody-tastic. I'd say it ranged between 70 - 90 calories. One lame little pot of muller light yoghurt. Pineapple flavour or something. Tasted like crap.

Lunch was great too. Mum had made me half a sandwich with cheese and salad. I picked out the lettuce, spring onion and a teeny bit of the cheese, ate that, and chucked the bread and the rest of the cheese away. Sounds good, right? Tasted good too. Tasted RIGHT. Like I wasn't eating a lot. Like I was doing what I was supposed to be doing.

But then the food started coming. Did I mention I was at work? Well, I was at work. And all the food came out. And I freaked. I mean, I was physically trembling, I was so afraid of having to eat, as I knew I wouldn't be able to stop. I went to the loo right as the chef pulled all the food out. I ran away and spent as much time in there as possible. I busied myself with odd jobs. I PRAYED the food would be gone by the time I got back.

But when I got back, my colleague and the chef looked at me and said "why aren't you eating, Q? Eat something, Q."

And I couldn't think of a good excuse. I guess I panicked. I grabbed a fork from that fucking drawer and I stuck it in like there was no tomorrow.

... The only good I can say is that I avoided carbs. Stuck to meat and veg. But I hate to think of the calories. Terrifying.

So when I got home, I worked out like my life depended on it. (Which it probably does, lest I continue like this and eventually die of obesity.)

I've got a friend coming over tonight for a movie night. I hope she doesn't bring any food...

OH, JUST AS I WAS WRITING THIS, JOYFUL NEWS. My mum walked in and said "Q, I'm going out... there's some food downstairs IF you want it, if not, just leave it. See you later!"

Just leave it.

YESSSSSS

I should be packing for uni right now, but man, I HATE packing. Bane of my life. But then I'll be there. And Boy will be there... 12 days after me.

Ha, that's not stalkerish at all, is it!

I feel like I want to explain Boy now. I'll try and nutshell it. We were vague friends at uni (I kind of knew who he was, but didn't really know much about him) but I never really thought of him until after Christmas, when we went on a massive night out, a group of us (including me and him). And it was then I thought, huh, he's kind of awesome. Unfortunately, my friend C thought so too. And fully admitted her affections for him. But... well... this is going to sound bitchy, but C ain't no catch. And when he found out, he wasn't too interested. So this ain't too bad.

Thing is, when I get a crush, I go into such crazy denial about it. So I got a crush on him, but I was too distracted by a hotter friend and the fact I didn't really know Boy. But me and Boy went out again one night (me and a load of lads, hardcore) and we got REALLY close. I think any randomer who saw us would think we were a couple. But I'm naturally flirty, and he's naturally flirty, so I didn't expect him (or any of our friends) to think anything of it. I hoped. But I didn't know.

Wow, this isn't really nutshelling, is it?

After another uni break, I told him how I felt. I was SO SURE he felt the same. EVERYTHING about his actions told me he did. But to my horror, he rejected me. Told me he had someone at home who he was after - my biggest fear. NEVER have I told a boy how I felt about him without already knowing he liked me first, and the one time I man up and take a chance, I get rejected. Wow, that's ironic. But after that, even though I wanted to avoid him like he was a leper, he seemed hooked on me. "Wanna come in for a drink, Q?" "Wanna go to the cinema, Q?" "Wanna come round and watch a film, Q (and friends)?" "Q, play with my hair whilst we watch films" (he had long-ish amaaaazingly soft hair at the time)

We went round to watch a film one night, in his room, and everyone left until it was just him and me. I should've left, but I didn't want to. We were talking, really meaningful talking, pouring out our hopes and dreams. And then he says "can I try something?" and kisses me. All I remember is me pulling away like "stop. You said you weren't interested." (or something to that effect) and him saying "I didn't say that... I just have an ex who I'm having trouble getting over. I'm sorry..." and I said "don't be sorry" and then... well, I spent the night in his room. Not predictable at all, I know.

We went for lunch the next day... and soon became a standard, unofficial couple. Everyone knew. We were 'seeing' each other, I suppose. I spent most of my nights in his bed. We didn't have sex (he didn't want to "rush things"), but we did everything else. Course, I had (and still have) the fear that the ex would pop back up... but I'm getting over that.

And this summer without him has been tough. Much tougher than I thought it would be. It's been over 3 months since I've seen him. And I can't wait to hear his voice again, to smell him... yet at the same time, I'm terrified.

HA, tragic.

But yeah, that's the story of Boy. So if I mention him again, you know what I'm on about. Thought I'd get that out of the way.

Stepped on Ricky this morning, couldn't resist... 9 stone 6 pounds. I didn't expect to have lost weight (HA) but I'm pleased that I haven't gained. Time to GROW SOME BALLS and get hardcore about this.

War cryyyy! Let us triumph!

Q x