Are there skinny girls in heaven?

I wish I could specialize in food restriction. I feel like it's my job to be thin. I feel like if I don't restrict my calories or have thighs that don't touch, I'm not a true LA girl. It doesn't matter if you've spent years in Los Angeles, even your whole life, you're not an Angel if you're not weightless. And isn't that the english translation of Los Angeles? 'The Angels'. And what is society's perception of an angel? Perhaps, skinny limbs and prominent cheekbones; floating, glowing girls with smooth skin and long, shiny flowing hair? Believe me, I thrive to reach that standard; to be someone special who's wanted by everyone and seen as the prettiest of all pretties. If someone disagrees with this statement, please come forward. Explain to me...attempt to convince me...that there is more to Los Angeles than being the sexiest thing in a short, short dress.

0 claps for Meals on Wheels

Reverse thinspo? More like reverse EATspo! For those who don't know, Meals on Wheels is a volunteer service for cute lil old folkies who can't leave their apartments to buy food and don't have the cash-money to check into a death-door home( Srrrsly, I hear those places are pricey). It's simple though. A volunteer picks up some pre-made meals n' delivers them to the home, chats up an old person for a few mins and then continues for a couple hours. It's pretty sweet.

Thing is, a lot of these elderlies have brittle organs, so their food is ingredient-selective depending on their condition. Example: needs low sodium, vegetarian, has high cholesterol etc. This means they get stuck with disgrossting entrees like soupy soggy beef and side dishes like mashed rice and dried leaks( I know, how complimentary, right?)

I have to stress on grody smell when i distributed them into plastic baggies. Holy crapasaurus! This shit was so vile. It reeked of a hospital dipped in rotten cheese and soaked garbage juices(yes, garbage juices). It made me realize how nasty food could be when you treat it like crud or sabotage it, or whatever you do, that doesn't make it taste like Meals on Wheels loves you. I honestly didn't chew one solitary piece of food for a total of 5 hours after that (except of course Orbit's watermelon mist gum).

If you're ever crash dieting or restricting on the kcals, take a stiff wiff of these things, cuz they're fucking stink bombs!

Crunch-a-tized

Honest to God, can some one please dispose of this mouth vacuum I possess? Lack of control is not sexy, and yet I scoop up a bag of corn nuts like it's nobody's biz-nass. It's like this cruel combination of my taste buds getting a food high from this snack-a-thon, but at the same time my ears are hearing this awful

crunch. gulp. crunch. gulp.

It's so cringing to listen to myself chew, and yet I ignore it. I ignorrrre the fact, this tasty... I mean, fat-causing, barbecue snack will go to my thighs and sit there waiting for the next round. How I lose a pound a day, I don't know. I consume these crunchy critters on a daily basis. Okay, sometimes I switch it up and eat Nabisco 100 cal snack packs of chocolate covered pretzels or shortbread cookies. Yummy n low cal right? Wrong. Sure, a hundred cals, that's nadda. But try eating 3 packs, that's 300 calories sittin in your belly already! Do I do that? No. But hey, I believe I've made my point.

My explanation is simple. Calories add up. Simple as 2x2. If I keep eating 100 cal items through out the day, my tummy's not gonna be lil red riding hood happily skipping through the forest. It's gonna be the big bad wolf, scarfing down greasy pigs in a blanket, slowly expanding into the size of a brick house! That's how it's been lately.

It started on Friday during dinner with my ma-mae at GladStone's restaurant in the Palisades. Let me tell you, I was NOT "glad" to be at gladstones. I was panicking like a runt of a puppy litter being picked up by a stranger. And my mom isn't the somber type when it comes to my eating disorder. She's Force Feeding Moody McMooderson about it ALL THE TIME.

" Are you SERIOUSLY freaking out about mashed potatoes? Let me help you." *SPLAT* More butter on those mashies. " And have part of my steak." The knife sliding on the plate sounded like nails on a chalkboard. *SECOND SPLAT* " Here ya go, sweetie", she said the word 'sweetie' in a vengful tone and it caused me so much guilt.

I sat there with my the fronts of my eyebrows slanted upward and my mouth in the shape of a disappointed pout. Like a puppy that's just been punished for barking too loud. Something so innocent, yet found to be annoying by a second party.

I have no excuse though. I should have shoved away that plate of mashies and slaughtered cow. That fatty texture and that soft cloud full of butter. But I didn't. I consumed it like a real girl. And you know what? It's all my fault.