Making My Way Back to Reality

Third day. Feeling slightly better as have stopped blaming Chrissy and focusing on myself. What I must have done wrong. Perhaps its the fat on my upper thighs? The size of my hips? My cheeks' widths. My hair didn't fall the right way. I was too tall. I didn't dress right. I need to lose 40 pounds. My skin is too pale. I'm ugly. Beautiful skinny India, with long DARK hair and skin that tans even in May. Short, skimpy little wisp of a thing. Quiet and softspoken. Hardly audible. Following Chrissy around everywhere, like a lapdog.

I thought like this all day, and I realized I was being sad and pathetic. Sure I'll blame my looks, but what woman hasn't? The main thing to remember here is India, my antithesis; the woman I played second to. Or did I?

I've got youth, my career, my clothes, my mind, my face, my brain, my mouth. And I had him first.

If he prefers her, so be it. She needs it more.

But this isn't about bashing her, I refuse to surrender to that.

My friends all called today to make sure I was doing well. I am. I'm still standing. I did well today at work. I did the best I could. I poured myself into it. I bought new shoes. My new book came. I had good hair. I got my order from Victoria's. My VISA recycled. I met a man, a British man.

Shen at work made me laugh, saying, "If he really wants HER, do you not pity HIM?!" Sixten was by with another smile. The phone rang all day with well-wishers.

Still I was a bit sad, but it's tapering off. I was too busy to think on it much, and settled more for letting my mind wander in the underwear department in front of the picture of Calvin Klien's Travis. I'm doing what I can.

Good.