Went to bora to spend teh bee-epps and miz purse anibursary.
I did not enjoy it.
I do not like the sun. Sunlight burns my face and the sweat that collects in my anatomy’s various cracks and crevices mutates into something evil that causes me to scratch which results to angry blotches of red which start screaming at each other and building bazookas of destruction and when they finished warring with each other they leave my skin looking like a mass graveyard full of glowering mounds of fresh scabs.
And so I feel ugly. Add the fact that I’m, er, fatter than usual and since I already gave away my “fat clothes” and some of my “transition clothes”, whenever I put on my “thin clothes” they start screaming, “Take me off you fat bitch!”
And so I feel fat. My rashes scream and my clothes scream and I am ugly and fat. Inanimate objects hate me and I’m ugly and fat.
And since I tend to obsess and am given to repetitive thought, I spent most of the trip repeatedly mumbling to myself and hating the teeming millions who dare cavort into my personal space. My aura of negative energy started leaking out and the people within my immediate vicinity point at me and say, “Oh look, it’s Mr Sunshine-hater McGrouchy!”
I kid. I am not THAT relevant. My liver hates me though.
Oho. My liver is tough. I shall name him Seamus McDrunkenidiot.
Aye izz bitchy and sulky. But le boyfriend loves me and understands. Aye laff him moar coz ammafulloflove juzz like dutt.
Work beckons and I am sleepy.
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