Monday, July 6, 2009
The pursuit of life, liberty, and chocolate milk
143.8 this morning.
I woke up in a bad mood. I'm supposed to get tested for bipolar, but I don't think I have it. I think it's all hormone related. They've given me Prozac to take when my temper kicks in, because I can get super violent, but I'm really reluctant to touch the shit - generally my angry moods only start up when I'm super-restricting (super for me being ~400-500cal a day when I generally have 600) and working out harder than usual.
But today my temper snapped. I got really...angry. Really violent. I almost punched a guy I work with. He was being negative, and everything he says is always negative and inappropriate. He told me i'd look fine if I changed how I dressed, when he's only ever seen me in my oversized uniform and nothing else (my uniform is currently 4-5 sizes too big). He sees me at work, in a man's outfit. I had out my pants to change into after work because they were still wet since I forgot to hang them up after they washed, and instead of being like "Oh, I see you have pants" or something equally as non-commental (or whatever) he goes, "That's weird fabric. Those are weird pants." And then he started TOUCHING THEM.
I'm a lesbian.
I don't hate men.
I hate DIRTY men.
And most men are dirty. I can't stand them touching me, and this guy always taps my arm when he talks, and it makes my skin twitch. He does it many times. He looms over me and he smacks his lips when he eats and makes that snorty "i have snot in the back of my throat" noise when he's sitting quietly or sucks on his gums (like licks his teeth and stuff) and is just...always making squishy weird gross noises in the general facial region. And for him to touch my newly washed, newly purchased designer slacks?
It took everything in me to not throw them in the trash. I just kept thinking they were DIRTY.
I have mostly guy friends, or I used to. But I never let them touch me, aside from one, who I know very well, and only then we touch very sparringly. My dad and my brother can hug me, and even then, I generally have to wash my hands. I don't know why. I equate touch from unrelated males to sexual advances, because that's what it always devolves into, and those things make me feel DIRTY.
But yeah...so...my doctor prescribed me prozac to take for when my temper gets out of hand, but I didn't have it, and I haven't taken it yet because I'm afraid of it. Instead, I went to the gym despite it being an off day. I worked out until I got dizzy, and after nearly 2.5 hours, I walked stiffly to the beam that seperates the in door track from the weights, did one stretch, and promptly blacked out. It wasn't a "TIMBER" blackout, where you fall over and cause a huge kerfuffle and people start going "IS THAT GIRL STARVING HERSELF?!" sorta thing. It was a "WOAH SHIT" vision gets all blurry and goes black, body goes numb, ears do that "SHWOOSH"-y noise, and you start to waver before promptly snapping back into coherency just as your knees are threatening to kiss the concrete. I didn't fall over, but when I looked at myself, my white ass looked like I had bathed in bleach and rolled in flour. When the color came back, I turned this siren red (like police siren, not hot crash-your-ships siren) and went into cold sweats.
So I came home. I'm still...irritable. I'm going to have a bowl of Total cereal and a nice long bath to the soundtrack of La Botique Fantastique (or however you spell it) and some vanilla scented bubbles, and then go to bed.
Tomorrow morning if temper continues, it is prozac and chocolate milk. Because chocolate milk makes everything happy, especially when it comes in 100 calorie boxes and you can have 4 of those instead of food and you realize that your parents can't tell you not to because you're an adult and if you want to live on chocolate milk and prozac now, you CAN. It's in the constitution or something.