And blog, and listen to bad music, and pretend I’m Adele circa 2007. This is what working in Fort St. John has done to me. I retreat to my hotel and drink too much Pinot Grigio (eww since when do I drink white wine?) and snack on almonds all while crooning “Make You Feel My Love’.
I have to drink alone in my hotel room because last weekend I was stalked around the hotel bar, and on to the next bar by this creepy woman and her super cute Irish boyfriend. Apparently her name was Lisa as well and she was trying to get me to have a three-way with them. It was terrifying. I don’t do three-ways. I only do me-ways.I guess it’s one of the “side effects” of having lost weight and still thinking I’m massive and unattractive, I’m not used to people approaching me in public, telling me I’m gorgeous and trying to get down my pants. My mind hasn’t caught up with my body, like I’ve said before. Despite having positive reinforcement on all fronts I still don’t feel normal, and by normal I mean attractive. The man of the moment tells me all of the time how incredible he thinks I am, how he loves creeping my instagram pics because he finds me so attractive. But I don’t know how to absorb those kinds of compliments. I’m so used to them being fake and empty words without any truth behind them, and here I am with this man who thinks I’m amazing, and that the sun shines out of my ass, and I brush off his compliments. Then, when I brush off his compliments I feel like even more of an asshole. I can hear the frustration in his voice when I tell him I don’t buy it. I seek validation all of the time, and when I get it I don’t buy it anyways. I don’t know why he puts up with me.
Since there is nothing to do in this disgusting, desolate, wasteland I find myself drinking more and more (yes I realize how terrible this is vsg-wise) and being more and more of a needy emotional mess because of it. My theory is if I smoke enough pot it’ll even me out. I’m going to have to test this theory, with my own empirical research. Brb.