Friends Again.

Steph and I are friends again. We talked and I apologized for how I said what I said. I couldn't think of a good way to say it then, but I can explain what I want to say and it's not so bad. Really I felt like she was trying to lose weight for this guy and not to be healthy, so I was trying to help her understand that, yea I'm healthy, but guys don't even think about my feelings or most other things unless they are getting me into bed by doing so, but for her guys are willing to get to know her even if they think she is fat and aren't attracted to her, now. So, I tried to say that as best as I could. I'm not one for trying to take years infront of the mirror to say something I either say it or don't (so yes, it leaves me with a lot of things unsaid but hey, I'm okay). Anywho. We're friends I have to work on filtering the things I say because well. I guess it's something I should do. Say "no" when I mean "yes". "Yes" when I mean "no". Smile when I'm sad and smile when I'm happy. Or maybe I should continue to use the corresponding face for the corresponding emotion...

This morn.

So according to my scale I have lost 5 pounds, which is increasingly funny because I have been constantly eating. Just a couple of hours ago my mom was upset with me because I was eating an icecream sandwich for breakfast. I know. I know. I can't do this to myself. It's bad for my health and all. But hey I do what I want, when it comes to my health anyway. My parents are thinking about getting me a car by Christmas if they can afford it. I hope they can. So i can get out of here and do stuff. Anyway. I hope I finish my course work. Soon. School is about to start and I need to finish this summer work and lose some weight.

SW: 160lbs
CW: 155lbs
GW1:150lbs
GW2:145
GW3:130
GW4:125
GW5:110
UGW:100

Don't Talk to Me!

Okay, Steph and I are not talking. Immediately I have this feeling of I'm sorry what I said was true, but I would not be your bestfriend if I lied to you. But then again, maybe she prefers people who lie to her. I envy her and she envies me. What more can I say. She told me what I said came off "shallow" her wannabe boyfriend told her he would never be attracted to her because she is fat. I make one little mention of her size and this is what I get. "That's life - that's what all the people say. You're riding high in April, shot down in May." -Frank Sinatra. We don't need to be friends anyway. I gave her an eating disorder. She saw mine and wanted one and I let her take it. She thinks we are going to live together forever. And that is when it dawned on me. We have totally different wants and needs. I know that if we stay together neither of us will grow. We just won't. Everything will stay the same. We will make plan after plan and never follow through. She would constantly complain of her size and being lonely. She expects to be my size without work or effort. It's like she believes she deserves it. I had to work hard to get to where I am. She expects it by doing nothing. I am glad I made her feel like shit, because maybe she will open her eyes and see what I see. I see someone who refuses to grow up. Someone who needs their hand held. I'm sorry. I'm not going to be the one holding her hand - she will never grow - and she will inhibite my personal growth. I just can't do that. I want a life. I want a life outside of this - this shit - and she just wallows in self-pity. It's depressing. I am happy she doesn't want to talk to me. She is careless about my feelings and my dreams anyway. She talks as if she is willing to carry out plans that she makes or we make, but makes no actual effort to do so. I do everything. I bring all of me to the table and she brings bits and pieces. She has the audacity to think I'm shallow, but she can't look at herself, maybe she knows what she's doing and doesn't care. I care. I've always cared and that's what has me so sick and tired all of the time. I need to start taking care of myself. I think I'm doing what's right - not just for me - for the both of us. I'm doing what's right. Right?

What does it matter?

So yeah. I think Steph is pissed with me. I know running to me one day and pissed with me the next. Okay I will admit what I said was just a little mean and inconsiderate, but I couldn't help it. It's something true. I told her guys look at me and think, "oh, cute. Let me fuck her." but when guys look at her they think, "Oh she looks nice." All I told her was that guys don't immediately think of banging her like they do to me. I really want guys to look at me and want to get to know me like she has, but she doesn't understand that. She thinks that being thin will make her happy. I'm not that small and I'm not happy. So yeah. What does it matter? I did have an interesting conversation with this guy named Caden on facebook. We had a very good and interesting conversation. It was like philosophical. He asked a question I gave my feelings on the subject he gave his. I asked a question and we did this for like an hour or two. It was lovely. I enjoyed every second. What does it matter though?

Hmm. SOOOooo... yeah. wow. WTF just happened?

So yeah. I was totally having a good night with my best friend, Steph, swimming, listening to music, chatting, and being drug free and then next thing I know she is knocking on my bedroom window. When I go outside she is panting and crying and I'm like, dude wtf happened. So I told her to calm down and breathe. My younger sister was out with me and Steph told me her family (really and truly her dad and this really crazy spanish lady who is living with them right now) were going to call the cops on her and matty. I was like ok so he told you to "stab the cunt" that is not a direct threat and that doesn't make you an accomplice to anything like the crazy spanish lady claimed. Now. Hold up. Wait a minute. Rewind. Why did Matty comment for Steph to "stab" this psycho. Well it all started with a little post on Facebook - a favorite networking site for most. Steph posted that this lady has been calling her a bitch and a cunt. I can attest to this. Honestly, everytime I go over she is calling everyone a bitch, cunt, whore, making threats over the phone to others about "them"(people she doesn't like or don't do what she says), and using her favorite spanish word "puta" which translates to bitch if my knowledge of slang spanish is still intact. This lady talks bad about everyone. I went over there and she didn't know I was there and she was like "I'm nobody's 'nigger'" excuse my language. Now, I am black if you didn't notice by my picture and I am nobody's "nigger" either and I don't care which way you twist it no one, absolutely no one should be using that kind of language to a child or about a child or anything. No one should be talking bad calling anyone fat, stupid, lazy, whore, bitch or a c u next tuesday. Really. No one. It is rude and it is totally uncalled for. Now I know for a fact that Steph is fed up with this crazy lady imposing on her already messy family. I think this lady honestly feels she is doing some good, when in reality she is further dividing that family. Steph told me she didn't even feel able to call them family and I joked "It's okay. It's like I told you, I am your family. I'll help you through anything." I told Steph to get a restraining order and sue for verbal and mental abuse, because yeah my best friend in the whole world is turning to bulimia to deal with her problems -not good, not good at all. I am an almost recovered bulimic going into remission lately now and I do not want to see my friend hurt by this illness. I want the best for her. I always have. I always will. All in all, I hate seeing people I love cry. It kills me inside to see people I love with all my heart hurting. I can't stand it. I would do anything within reason to help the people I love. I just would no questions asked.

Oh yeah a random funny thing she told me was: You can see my bedroom light on from down the street. I was thinking wow coming to me to help with problems and there down this dark, damp street was my bedroom light, shining beacon of hope.
Goodmorning/Goodnight.

Nice to meet you, I'm Andie.

Alrighty then, I'm Andie. Not formally know as Andie, but known as Andie nonetheless. I'm cool according to my friend, Steph, I have a severe eating problem. It's not my fault that I'm a finiky eater and I don't have any problems whatsoever. I'm just a kid -- just a normal average half-american, half-british teen. I think to much and I'm sorta lame at times, but I can be fun loads of fun when I want to be. So yeah. I'm seventeen. I'm turning 18. I know. I'll be old. So yeah. This is my story.