Attire annoyances

Why do fashion designers all share the delusion that women who wear a size zero must all be at least five foot three and have a twenty-four inch waist? Have they never heard of the "under five feet crowd"? And for gods' sakes, not all twelve-year-old girls are five three either. Is it so hard to find pants that fit? The Express carries stretch pants that come in a Short category, which is perfect for my height, but the smallest they have is a 1/2, which I still need a belt with because the waist is two inches too big. The only true pant size I'd be able to wear that fit in both length and waist would be a girl's size ten, but my hips are too big, since I'm a woman. A girl's twelve still has space in the waist. And no one gets that. And I doubt Betsy Johnson designs casual or work clothes that aren't neon and sparkly. I hate people sometimes.
With that said...
( Okay, so the Scoobies were right )

Heh heh heh

Which lovely combination do you think YOU have?
Personally, I go with (in that order) Dependant, Avoidant, mild Schizotypal, mild Obsessive-Compulsive, and mild Borderline.
http://www.4degreez.com/misc/disorder_information2.html

I hate when I do that...

Stick my foot so far in my mouth that I choke. Let's see...sharp blade, sharp blade .... ah, hell with it, I'll just take a long nap when I get home. Upsetting people makes me hate myself and cut myself to ribbons, because naturally I believe that nothing I do or say is ever the right thing, and that I've lost whatever happiness I thought I had. There is only one thing I have faith in: People. Friends. Family. The day I lose faith and loyalty in anyone is the day I will allow Siren to overcome me, the day I will take my own life and be glad of it. I may seem weak, small, timid, shy, anxious, foolish, clumsy, and scared, but I know where I stand. I love my life. I love my friends. I love myself. But I will not hesitate to let life and friends whip and bleed me if it means teaching me a lesson. I need to be taught many lessons about life, because I have never been a social animal. I say wrong things, people take them my words out of context, and I find myself gnawing my own leg to free myself from my own trap.
I hate that. I do. I wish I would never open my mouth. But I do. We all do. Shit pours out. Doesn't mean it's true. Just means that, well fuck, I need to talk, I need a shoulder. But yes, I will allow people to turn me away and slam the door in my face when I deserve it. They have every right.
Wow. I really don't like myself most days do I? Sigh.

Afflictions

Is the sudden rash of self-torment, sleeplessness, self-abuse, prickly words, unsheathed claws, and harsh snarls due to the fact that Mars can now be seen from the early sky? Is it because the 9/11 anniversary looms so close? Does the distant moon pull so hard on my blood?
I feel better now that things have become clearer. But I am still trapped in my dark place and my fists are bruised from pounding on the walls. I want this gone. I want it over and done with. And it will be. I have true faith in that. But I feel impatient and lost, tearing up my own skin as if it might help feed the gods who want my blood.
I have the strength of those who love me. That's always a very good thing.