Shrinking, in more ways than one

Blogfolks, it feels like I'm disappearing, and not just because yesterday I bought a skirt one size smaller than I usually need. In so many ways I'm disappearing: because I was tempted to lie and write 'trousers' because skirts are what my job requires and I can't condone that and that is swallowing me. I'm disappearing because for the past month I haven't been eating my normal amount, hence the dropping a size. In a perverse way, I celebrate this by looking in the mirror several times a day. Hello, size 10 ass, I hadn't seen you in a few years. I'm disappearing on this blog, because all I post about is not eating and the odd comments are about how good mash is. What? Perhaps disappearing too the same way i am with this therapist I have, trying to break up but he won't let me, saying I am not taking responsibility for ending this process, and I get annoyed because it's true, and just not going anymore will be disappearing, too. I'm disappearing from friends' lives because I don't want to do what they do or have fun and they don't want to know about that. I'm disappearing from my relationship with my girlfriend because she's busy and rightly so, and I'm not very good at being her girlfriend anyway, because I'm shrinking.

I'm not feeling sorry for myself, just looking at things and realising what's happening: spending time vicariously – Ugly Betty is really very good, I saw all 16 episodes- and I had to put down 'Traité d'athéologie' because I feel dumb. Today I listened to a friend tell me about her sex stories, and asking for advice, and I couldn't admit I didn't care. I like to blame it on winter but perhaps there is in me a mechanism, do you know? I've come to care very little about what is not little.