dear diary

Dear Diary,

Tonight I’m all dressed up with no place to go. I’ve been in a total funk and have been trying, and failing miserably, to snap out of it.

I dolled myself up this evening and tried to get a fun evening started up and just got shot down by several people, including my husband.

A little back-story. I’m having a horribly lonely weekend. I, no kidding, spent an hour watching Pussycat Dolls music videos on YouTube {which doesn’t do much in the way of increasing my self-esteem. Holy abs, Dolls}.

This afternoon I left my house looking like this {hair tucked in hat, sunglasses on} on an emergency hair-dye/makeup miracle in a bottle run, convinced I’d aged 10 years in the last 2 days because I have freaking under-eye bags. And my eyes are seriously never not bloodshot. I always look like I had a rough night, even with 8 hours of sleep. And has my skin always been so… pasty? And today I had entirely too much time to pick myself apart and drove to Target cursing my skin and hair and thighs {cuz why stop at my face?}. We gals have moments like this {at least, I hope I’m not the only one.}

And then after hours in the mirror coloring and scrubbing and polishing and plucking and straightening and such… I have nowhere to go and I’m back to feeling sorry for myself.

Sometimes I feel like I am just the go-to girl when people need manual labor or a designated driver or a proofreader for their resume. Sometimes I feel like I spend so much of my time waiting around for other people to want me around or have time for me. I don’t do things for people because I have an expectation they will return the favor. But I do things for people I care about secretly hoping they would want to return the favor. I’d never ask. I just want someone to want to hang out for a couple hours on a Sunday night.

Thanks, Diary, for listening.

Oh, P.S. They still totally make Lip Smackers. Today I bought the Skittles kinds. They are totally awesome.