I wish some days that I could pay a tattoo artist to write the words " Yes I am Fat" on my forehead. Maybe then people will stop telling me that heating up things in the microwave was unhealthy. That eating bacon and meat isn't something that is healthy for you. Let me be clear. I don't hate people who tell me this out of the kindness of their hearts. Like my parents and relatives. I hate the people that tell you in front of other people to embarrass you and make you look like shit.
The kind of people that laugh when they see you pull out yet another frozen patty out of the refrigerator and laugh because they eat salads with no ranch.
The kind of people that sit around and watch what you eat and then wonder why you do not want to sit with them and eat. The kind of people who dictate word for word what you ate to someone else when they think you aren't listening. The kind of people who laugh because you cant cook and are always always asking you and only you about the kind of food that you eat. These are the kind of people that I hate. Maybe this isn't the only reason why I hate them but I hate them for this reason in particular.
My mother told me to stand up to them. To come at them when they say these things to me because they don't care about me and they don't love me like my relatives do. I have this huge decision to make. Do I move out of this place to avoid these people that I hate and risk moving in with more people who I might hate just as much? Or Do I stay? And get so mad and angry and riled up that I leave in a flurry and run to the computer lab? And then when they ask me if I was mad even though they know they pissed me off I'll lie because I don't feel like talking about it because somewhere in the back of my mind I have already forgiven them.
What do I do? What do I do?
