As I sit here self-tanning, I thought I should write out what has been going through my mind the past couple of days. Why am I so worried about what others think of me? When Brook and I went to the beach, I was so worried about how my fat ass would look on the beach. But I opened my eyes and you know what? There were other fat people there. Not only fat people, but scrawny people, old people, even unnaturally hairy people. Did they care to flaunt their stuff in public? No. So I didn't either.
A lot of times this past year I've said "I want to buy a house" or "I want to buy an expensive designer handbag" or "I want a convertible." What the hell is wrong with me? I don't need those things, I have perfectly fine things for someone my age. Hopefully this new revelation will stick with me longer than 48 hours.