I think my eyes are too big for my head. My old piano teacher and her husband used to call me Big Eye Girl. I'm feeling rather self-conscious.

I am wearing a new top. This is how I imagine an illicit affair feels like - it's my dirty, little secret. I know it's wrong, in fact I know it's shameful, degrading,* and inevitably disastrous. I know I will end up hurt. But this reckless decision, deliberately turning my back on good sense, is cathartic. It's not thrilling. I don't take pleasure in being bad, like a Catholic schoolgirl sneaking her first cigarette and feeling drunk on the rebellious spirit. It's more masochistic than that.

Here's the thing. In about 6 weeks I'm flying to England to study at freakin' Oxford. How is that my life? That can't possibly be reality because that's not the sort of thing that happens to me. And to prove it, because I am self-loathing, I'm going to show Oxford and everyone who is proud of me and most importantly myself that it's all wrong, I'm all wrong. Don't expect anything but disappointment from me.

Hell, in my twisted mind, I don't deserve this opportunity. I used to spend months believing that I didn't even deserve to eat. I would use restriction as a form of self-punishment to remind myself not to get my hopes up about anything. Now, that starving high school girl is coming back.

I'm supposed to be saving money for my time abroad, but instead I'm just buying more clothes that I don't need. Yes, I have this burning need to appear perfect so no one will guess that I'm really on the maximum dosage for Prozac and I'm still unstable. My appearance is something I can control...so expect me to have cute clothes, expect me to be skinny, expect me to look good. But don't expect anything else from me. Certainly don't expect me to be smart.

God, this is a depressing blog post. I first intended it to be a light, joking piece about my shopping addiction. But, as always, the truth comes out when I start typing.

And now I can hear my father arguing with my mother on the phone. My mother is currently in Oklahoma. The house has been a lot more relaxed without her but somehow she can still bring the tension just over the phone. All I can do is sigh and let it pass. Just another source of stress in my life.

I guess it's time to go drink this whole week away.**

45 Days Until Oxford


*Yeah, I still use the Oxford comma. I like my grammar to be unambiguous, which is irrelevant in this example but it's the principle of the thing. I guess I'm old-school.

**But not really because I've been drinking a lot less this summer. See? I'm not completely destroying my life. At least I care enough to stop blacking out every weekend.