I have an awful lot to say this time. My mom has got 4 boxes on their way, plus something of value for Tom coming via regular mail in an envelope. Wow! That’s a lot. Then she says she’ll have another box going out soon, too.

That shit of a sister of mine should get my letter today or tomorrow if she hasn’t already, so who knows what “fuck you” messages she’ll leave me via phone or AOL? When she’s been had, or when you tell her something she doesn’t want to hear, whether it’s true or not, she gets nasty and makes up all kinds of stories/lies. She’s gonna be fuming when she reads this letter. I only hope she doesn’t take her anger out on the kids.

Kim’s taking Spanish classes, so she and I have been sending each other messages in Spanish.

Last night I had a good 5 hours of fun with the freeloaders. My original compromise with Tom was that I wouldn’t lay a hand on them. Instead, they’d get two eggs and a letter if they’re still here when we go. I decided that rather than send them a 2- to 3-page letter I’d really give them and their sick friends their reading pleasure by sending them everything I ever wrote about them. Within reason, of course. I have small hands and cannot hold two eggs so easily in one hand while the other opened the car door, so it’d take too much time to open the door with one hand (I’d have one egg in the other hand), then pick up the other egg, throw them, then turn around and reach for the manila envelope that’ll contain my journal excerpts on them, and toss that. So, I’m copying and pasting into a file, all these excerpts, then I’m cutting out names, etc. I know the laws, though, and that names or not, threats or not, the pigs can’t do shit. They don’t do shit till shit’s been done. They don’t act on talk or letters, or else the bulk of the population would be in deep shit.

Once I print these pages out, I’m gonna wire bind them, and I was gonna have the cover page say something like: Everything I ever wrote in my journals about you assholes while we were neighbors, but Tom said not to identify myself. I’m sure it’ll be rather obvious to them who I am. Again, I’m not worried and know what the law entails, but I’ll still watch what I say. I changed, for example, the word “bottle” to “seahorse.” Did the same for the plural versions, too. So I’m fessing to throwing a seahorse over the wall and into their carport. Now, the freeloader will know exactly what I really mean, but from a legal standpoint, there’s nothing that can be done. Tom says that we’re the only neighbors they had at the time (1996+) that they had problems with since they’re chummy with the people next to them on their other side, and since most people wouldn’t consider houses across from them to be their neighbors. Like I said, though, it’ll be fine. The freeloaders may be worth the fun of copying/pasting all the wonderful things I’ve had to say about them, but they’re not worth the postage. So I’ll put the shit in a manila envelope and put their address on both sides, so it can be seen no matter which side it lands on, as I throw it up their driveway. Wish I could be there to see their reactions! And I know that they, and their sick pals, will read away! Yeah, they should get a kick out of it. Maybe send chills up their spines once they realize just how closely I watched/analyzed them and their antics.

So the freeloaders are lovey-dovey with the Lopezs? (that’s their name according to what we learned at the library, though they’re blond and not Hispanic-looking). How fitting, though. I always did say that the Lopezs were complete scum to treat their dogs the way they do, they were assholes to that woman in back of us, so they’re good for each other. I mean, how utterly cute. Tom says he sees them chatting a lot and that the bitch has even been seen getting out of their car. Well, they can have happy lives together! Assholes should be with other assholes.

In other news, I have mixed emotions about how abnormal, different, freakish, and limited I am. I usually do, though, don’t I? I was gonna get into it now, but I think I’ll wait and get into it some other time.

Later…

Half an hour till the freeloader leaves. It’s been leaving at 7:30 for the last couple of mornings. I am so utterly amazed that there haven’t been more ball games than there have been. I really thought that’d be close to a daily thing. It’s May now, so by the end of July, I expect the dog to be here.

I also expect to see my worst fears confirmed in 20 more days, too. I’ve been sticking to doing these exercises every day and I haven’t changed a bit. Just when I thought I would, nope. I’m still the same weight, the same measurements. I know nothing’s wrong with me or else I’d have symptoms saying so, so this tells me that there really is something up there that wants me fat. Along with nature. It isn’t in your average adult’s nature to be thin. That’s why most adults are fat. It’s natural for my body, as a non-smoker, to weigh 124. And nature can’t be altered all that well, trust me.

Sometimes I’m back to my old self - not hungry most of the time. But other times, I could eat non-stop, so I really have to control myself and make sure I eat little and it’s been months now since I’ve been back to my old eating habits of not eating much. Instead of my body adapting to the little amount of food it gets, it stays hungry. I’m always hungry. But like I said, I have to just live with it, cuz if I eat every time I’m hungry, I’ll have food in my mouth about as often as I used to have a cigarette in my mouth.

Tom and I were talking earlier about how out of shape I’ve gotten. Here I am a non-smoker, yet I got so out of breath walking up this little hill on the beach when we were in CA. So God really is sparing me from shit I can’t handle after all, cuz if I can’t even walk up a hill, I can’t have a baby. I still have a lot of hyper energy, but that’s about it. Maybe if I keep exercising anyway after the 30-day fat/inch loss guarantee, my psychological knowledge of knowing I’m exercising daily and putting forth the effort, will at least increase my stamina and make me feel better, if it won’t decrease my weight/fat/inches.

As I said earlier, I still like and hate myself and the way I am, if that makes any sense. I wonder, though, why did God make me so damn incompetent? There’s got to be a reason why he made me like I am and why my life is what it’s like. It’s both wonderful and pitiful. I mean, I can’t even sleep with my own goddamn husband, that’s how abnormal I am. It’s like the more I fight to do what’s common/normal, the more I can’t, but the things that most people can’t do, come easily to me.

I admitted to Tom that I faked orgasms with him lately. He said he loves and accepts me as I am and wants to be with me forever, but that it bothered him most that I lied. Well, we all do it every now and then. He should know. And I think he only said it bothers him as a cover for his own fibs pertaining to sex, but nonetheless, I did what I thought was best at the time. What I didn’t tell him was that I prefer to just quickly and easily take care of myself and just get it over with that way.

I can’t lie here and say I don’t like how my appetite’s decreased for sex. I don’t want to want sex as much as I used to with him, cuz he couldn’t take care of me. We’ve always had part-time sex and we always will. He doesn’t have a high drive himself, and due to our schedules and all he has to do, there’s no way we could screw regularly.

I also have periodic spells where I wish things could’ve been different with me and that I could have a child. I know, though, that the longer I stay as I am, the happier I’ll be that I did. I can’t afford to waste my time, as much of it as I have, on trying to get by both God and Tom on issues I could never win on. It only exhausts, depresses, angers, and frustrates me. I could never win. And what if I could? Would that really be best? Or would I just be even more miserable with a million more problems? I’ll bet I would be, and the good thing about never having a kid is that I’ll never have to find out that I was right about fearing more misery/problems. Like I said, God knows what I can and can’t handle both physically and mentally. What goes for me may not go for others, but he’d never let me bite off more than I could chew.

So, while it’s easy for me to say I wish I could be thin again, and be normal, and sleep with my husband, have a normal sex life, have a kid, and a career, and not be afraid to drive, this can never be. These things aren’t me and that’s that. Again, though, everything has its pros and cons and had that been me, I’d wish I could be as I really truly am. Well, I wouldn’t want the rather odd sex life I’ve had, and maybe I wouldn’t want to be unable to sleep with my husband, but I’d wish I didn’t have to work. And I’d wish for damn sure that there were no kids in the picture.

The only unique things I like about myself are my abilities with music and art.

The freeloader just left after 3 door slams.

Later…

The object of my lust just called to remind me of Monday’s appointment. How could I forget! At first I was like, who’s this? Then when she said she was Melanie I was shocked. She sounded like a 15-year-old. She said she probably sounded different cuz she had to have her braces put back on. I said, “Oh you poor thing!” and asked what happened. She said something about a tooth slipping back. Then I was kind of like, haha! And we were laughing like old buddies. 

I brought up the pen pal thing by asking her first if she had a home PC. She doesn’t have one. Bummer. Then I told her I hope she feels better since I know how it can be at first, and she said it was good for the diet. I told her she’s not fat, she said “yeah right,” then that was it.