thirty pounds in a twenty pound sack...

Hehehe. The title is actually a line from a story in an erotica anthology that I own...

Anyway, that's how I see myself. I'm overweight. I'm curvy. I have a love/hate relationship with my body. Deep down, I don't like my body shape... and I'm beginning to understand that my weight is a defense mechanism against the criticism of my mother.

I'm scared to lose my weight. I'm scared about not having that to hide behind... to protect myself from her. A few moments of her lecturing to me is enough to make me want to put out my light, and it's a struggle to reconnect to my will to live.

I don't like that I don't like my mother. I wish it were different, but it's hard to be forgiving all the time. I have these walls erected because of her.