Dear Kitty,
I don't know what it is. I've gained half a kilo and I've just been told that I'm fat - by my own brother.
I don't understand it. Before I turned eleven, I don't remember ever worrying about my weight. The pictures of me from anytime before the Berrystead make me look happy and normal and not fat - just a normal weight. I don't think I even worried about my weight until Sophie Whitby commented on it. And yet, now, it's probably one of the things that I worry about the most. Sure, I've thinned out a lot since Third Form, but...oh, I'm not even sure where I'm going with this. Never mind.
Christopher asked if he could read my blog - he doesn't know where it is, so he hasn't. I told him no, and he asked why; my answer was that there is something on it that I'm not ready to tell him yet. We left it at that, but I don't know if I ever want to tell him. What would he do if he knew he was going out with someone like me? We both laughed together over the Bill Bailey 'Emo' song, and whenever I'm with him, I'm happy and natural and relaxed (which is great, because I don't think I've ever been like this around anyone) - but if he knew about SH or anything...I just don't know what he'd do. Would it still be the same? Or would he just break up with me because he wouldn't know what to do?
Speaking of which, it's been getting worse recently, and I succumbed a tiny little bit today. Not much, but enough to make a mark. Mum won't see it, so it's fine. But I have realised something else; why I don't talk to people about problems. Most of all, of course, it's because I'm worried that they'll worry. And then, secondly - it's because I'm worried they won't care. Or that they'll use it against me, or what happened with Hector will happen again. That's the nice thing about a blog - you, Kitty, just listen and listen and are there, and, even though I know I won't get a response, it's so nice to just tell someone - even if it is entirely virtual.
Another rambling entry, I fear. I'd better go anyway - my phone's ringing.
Yours,
Francesca
I don't know what it is. I've gained half a kilo and I've just been told that I'm fat - by my own brother.
I don't understand it. Before I turned eleven, I don't remember ever worrying about my weight. The pictures of me from anytime before the Berrystead make me look happy and normal and not fat - just a normal weight. I don't think I even worried about my weight until Sophie Whitby commented on it. And yet, now, it's probably one of the things that I worry about the most. Sure, I've thinned out a lot since Third Form, but...oh, I'm not even sure where I'm going with this. Never mind.
Christopher asked if he could read my blog - he doesn't know where it is, so he hasn't. I told him no, and he asked why; my answer was that there is something on it that I'm not ready to tell him yet. We left it at that, but I don't know if I ever want to tell him. What would he do if he knew he was going out with someone like me? We both laughed together over the Bill Bailey 'Emo' song, and whenever I'm with him, I'm happy and natural and relaxed (which is great, because I don't think I've ever been like this around anyone) - but if he knew about SH or anything...I just don't know what he'd do. Would it still be the same? Or would he just break up with me because he wouldn't know what to do?
Speaking of which, it's been getting worse recently, and I succumbed a tiny little bit today. Not much, but enough to make a mark. Mum won't see it, so it's fine. But I have realised something else; why I don't talk to people about problems. Most of all, of course, it's because I'm worried that they'll worry. And then, secondly - it's because I'm worried they won't care. Or that they'll use it against me, or what happened with Hector will happen again. That's the nice thing about a blog - you, Kitty, just listen and listen and are there, and, even though I know I won't get a response, it's so nice to just tell someone - even if it is entirely virtual.
Another rambling entry, I fear. I'd better go anyway - my phone's ringing.
Yours,
Francesca
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