Dear Diary,

I accidentally lost thirteen pounds somewhere, and I hope it doesn't come back. It's true what they say, you know, about the whole eat less/excersise bit. Who would have guessed?
I started not eating very much because of my psychotic stress levels. I am sticking with it because it makes me feel successful, which in turn lightens my stress load.
Besides, a skinny homeless person would be more consistent with the living conditions, don't you think? If I were fat and homeless, it would just seem wrong. I am not homeless yet, and that is a comfort. However, I feel inclined to be prepared, just in case.
My size 6s still don't fit. Not even remotely. But at least I have some, and that's more than many can claim.

I have been blog surfing today, which is very much fun. I have been reading the journals of strangers. It's somewhat voyeuristic, perhaps, but fabulous escapism.
My own blog is getting way more personal than I ever thought that it would. For ages, I would not put things in here that were terribly private. As time goes by, I am finding that it's easier to share more intimate details of my life. I was realizing this the other day because a thought crossed my mind. It occurred to me that there are some people whom I would not want to read this journal. The reason is, that it includes a bunch of my real heart and mind, and not just anyone should be trusted with all that nonsense. The realization makes this seem slightly risky, and therefore very much fun.
It's easier to write with passion about the real stuff in my head. Although rambling is also true stuff in my head. What does that reveal about my psyche?
Fun stuff, blogging.