Fuck food gigs

What a trip this month has been.  I almost lost my born again virginity status and then pretty much chickened out last minute.  I’ve been almost 5 years celibate this time.  The longest stint was 12 years.  I don’t know exactly how to express how I feel about my body shape now that I’ve lost so much weight.  I almost feel just as betrayed by the loose skin and excessive folds of skin than what I did about being so fat.  A perfect body for me would be around 110 kg with very little loose skin.  I’m having to grieve the loss of ever having had an okay looking body.  I’m having to forgive my body for looking the way that it does now.  And I’m struggling to forgive myself for the way that I look.

I am now facing hair loss and bald patches.  Just when I thought my life couldn’t get any worse – or that my body had taken enough of a beating – my hair falls out.  In clumps some days.  I feel angry at who I call the powers that be.  I scream at them “haven’t I fucking been through enough already you muthas?”  It’s a big grief losing hair.  I feel so powerless over it.  Part of me wants to shave my hair off and be done with it – to have the control like Demi Moore did in GI Jane.

I’m scared about having a bald head.  I’ve struggled to feel and to look pretty my entire fucking life.   And here I go again – something else to hate myself about.