bad santa.

im feeling surprisingly emotional this christmas. not only because of the season’s tendency to bring out my devout love and faith in jesus our lord and savior, but because i’m fucking alone and miserable and not at my christmas goal weight of 72 lbs. hardy har har . i kid , i kid . i don’t give a fuck about jesus and let’s get real, my goal weight was 65.

i started my  xmas eve day by finding my old engagement ring and wedding band, putting them on, and going christmas shopping for myself .  i pranced around stores using my pre divorce wedding bling as a means to convey to the world  someone loves me other than my parents and i love someone else other than myself enough to buy them a fucking present ( that just happens to be in my size).  i bought my dog a bone. i decided the guy sitting across from me on the C train was probably a rapist.  i dropped off my laundry.  I bought some champagne. i made my bed.  i did some yoga. i texted all 5 people i know.  i even considered taking a bath , but  i didn’t want to overdose on fun. i lost my tweezers. i told the man who stands on the corner trying to gather women to go get their eyebrows threaded at a nearby salon to go fuck himself yesterday. karma has retaliated by stealing my tweezers and making me wish, i had, in fact taken up his $5 offer to thread these strays.

i look at my dog, she’s drunk on bone. belly up, legs spread, wasted.

now it’s beginning to look a lot like christmas.

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