Why did I feel the need to confess this to him? I hate this conversation- ESPECIALLY with the guy you're dating. Some would say it's what's called a no-brainer- you never talk this topic of death. But Marty has figured out that if you shut up long enough, I start spilling it all. Somehow we went from talking about what's attractive (I think him in that blue shirt is SO attractive and he thinks my kissing is so attractive) to Diz confessing her fear of becoming fat. And I wasn't just confessing it- I was on a tirade. I started telling him about a friend of mine that is married and her husband always tells her that he won't have sex with her until she loses the weight and she loves it because it's motivating to her to lose but I find it appalling. Next thing you know- Diz is rapidly spitting fire throughout the entire car. I hope I see him again and he didn't leave for Nevada tonight.
I have a lot to process right now. I'm not even sure I should publish this post. For some reason just confessing this fear alone leaves me feeling very unsettled and anxious.
The thing is- I don't know why. Why do I feel like I can't admit I'm scared? Does this mean my subconscious is saying that admission of this fear makes it real? Like- I'll definitely gain the weight and I'm even admitting that I will? Or worse- I'm crazy.? Like...only an emotionally unstable person would spew such atrocious fears. The rest of normal humans would never even allow their minds to go there. Everyone knows that once the seeds been planted...
I'm not even sure I'm making sense anymore. I'm freaked out and stressed out about this confession and I need to think. Peace out.