lying scale

i woke up hungry.
even though it's not a sign of progress (i totally pigged out on goldfish at like 10pm last night), it still feels good....

except that i weighed myself. roommate left early today for breakfast (i don't even think she has class til the afternoon?) and so when i woke up (although i was awoken earlier by her incessant coughing) i was alone. before i got in the shower i weighed myself.
i'm going to pretend i didn't. the number it showed me was impossibly high. like actually. i don't believe it. fuck my scale.
except no matter how much i logically know it's not telling me the truth, there's that nagging, terrified voice telling me i've failed harder than anybody in the history of life.

i'm going to do my best to not eat today, save for the chewy bar i eat for the metabolism wake-up call.
today's my long day, i hope i make it.

i have an art project due today. i didn't do it.
how did i get into this spiral?
i slept through class yesterday (my roommate had been coughing all night so i didn't get much sleep) so my professor and i didn't go to the wellness center. that's the plan for tomorrow.

i've gotta go get dressed now for like the first flex hour i'm going to since... well, i went to the show and tell one on like the twenty fourth... oh, i'm such a failure.
i don't know what to wear now though, since i finally have cuts on my arm (but just two). it's going to be 68 degrees today. fuck you, weather. fuck you.