Unfuckingbelievable! I’m getting hungry again. Already?! Could there be something else going on with me that mimics hunger pangs? Why is it that some days I just cannot fill up? It seems like half the days no amount of food could satisfy me, but why? Why? Why? Why? Why must I always be fated to swap one problem for another? Can I ever be allowed by God to solve a problem and not get a new one in return for it?

Later…

I am officially off my diet now. No more going hungry all the time and eating barely 1000-1200 calories a day. I need more like 2000-3000 a day. I’m older now, so my metabolism and dietary needs have changed. I’m going to eat when I’m hungry and go back to eating what I want when I want, and I’ll let my weight go where it wants to go naturally.

I had Tom put the scale in the garage so I wouldn’t weigh myself so often. He thinks I’ll be less hungry if I don’t weigh myself so much. He thinks weighing myself a lot triggers a psychological response that enhances my hunger. He’s gonna look into simple, non-dairy diet plans, and appetite suppressants, because if there’s something that’ll allow me to continue on with eating healthy, then OK, as long as I’m not hungry all the time. If there’s something that’ll work for me without side effects, fine. That way I can eat healthily and maybe as an added bonus, I can keep my weight where it is. Remember, if I go into the 120s again, it’ll be hard to rock.

Someone tried to call collect today. The only one I can think of is Paula since Lisa’s been calling directly lately on some plan they’ve got.

I called to wish Sarah a happy birthday in the morning before everyone left. Lisa and Tammy get up at 6:00 and Becky and Sarah get up at 7:00. Tammy’s the last one to leave at 8:00.

Tammy’s fine. She’s still with Mark and happy. She, like Andy, asked if I’d talked to Mom and Dad. I gave them both the same answer - I’ll never talk to them again. It’s over. Period. Tammy hasn’t talked to them, either. We’ve both endured many years of being hurt by these people, that’s for sure.

I’ve come to conclude that these people may have never really even loved me. Just take how they’ve dealt with my sterility, for example. That alone tells me something about these people. Back when they knew I wanted a kid and couldn’t have one, they were so insensitive about it. They didn’t give a shit. They felt not one stitch of empathy for what I was going through and they even told me that they didn’t want to hear about it. No one who truly loves you and accepts you as you are treats you that way, whether they’re relatives or not. If having a kid was something that they felt I should have, then that would’ve been different. Only if it’s something they can relate to, that interests them, too, and that has something to offer them.

There’s only one real mom that I’ll always refer to as “mom” and that’s Tom’s mom. She loves me and accepts me as I am and she wants to hear about my bad times, as well as my good. She wants to hear about things that she can’t relate to and that don’t benefit her in any way, as well as just the opposite.

And speaking of that mom, Tom had to break up his sleep to take her to an appointment today that took forever. Mary couldn’t take her because she had her own appointment to go to. Tom says ma’s not doing well at all.

Here goes another fucking allergy attack. At first I was like - it fucking figures that this has to happen right before an appointment so I can’t take Benadryl, but then I said - fuck that shit. I’m taking Benadryl. I’m not gonna suffer from intermittent sneezing fits till I crash. I’m sick of this shit, you know? And once they start, they don’t stop. I have sneezing fits every half hour or so till I fall asleep. So, now I can forget about enjoying a burger and some fries in an hour when Tom gets up.

Today I didn’t just hear next door’s door-slamming spree, I saw it. I heard a door slam, then went and peeked out and saw the trunk and back doors open. I couldn’t see the front doors, though, because they were too deep into the carport.

I’d say that Bill didn’t watch the mistake today at the house. I’d say that the mistake went elsewhere for the day and that Bill brought home both mistake and bitch.

I saw both the bitch and Bill unload the car, and man is that bitch ugly! Great body, ugly face. The bitch took from the backseat what appeared to be the mistake’s shit. Bags for toys and diapers, although I think 3 years old is a little old for diapers. Isn’t it? I don’t know shit about kids, so I couldn’t tell you for sure. Then she slammed the door as if she was pissed. She’s always pissed. Always moving about in a mad, aggressive way. Then Bill, who moves awfully slow and makes me wonder how the hell he can have quick enough reflexes for driving, popped into view. In slow motion, he took a big box out of the trunk, but I couldn’t see what it was. Then the bitch came out and took a few plastic bags out of the trunk that was probably groceries. Then Bill did this. Then he was gone. What? Do they unload groceries and boxes daily? Is that what all the door slamming’s about (besides to piss me off)?

Speaking of things that piss me off - it’s coming up on 10 PM, and the fucking dogs are going off. They’ve been really, really bad the last couple of days.