I am doll parts.

I feel like a bunch of parts. Not a real woman, just body parts. The most important one of course is the whole. o wait I meant HOLE. (sigh) sorry I am not doing well tonight. I love your blog tho.

F*cked Up & Pretty

My first post went pretty well! I didn’t freak anyone out- well, maybe I did, but nobody told me to my face. Hooray! M (my husband that I literally tell everything to) said he thought he understood me better after reading it, meaning that it was both a massive overshare and also a good thing. I think I’m going to just go with the flow and write about whatever comes to me in the moment, instead of a formula. When I feel cute, I’ll post a picture of myself in an outfit. When I finish A Clash of Kings (in three years), I’ll write you a book report. And when I feel like a fatass, I’ll cry if I want to…?

Tonight let’s do that last one.

The fear that other people look at me the way I look at myself pervades my every thought. Because when I look at myself, I’m unbelievably…

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