I just left St. Vincent's Hospital. My dad had back surgery so I went to go visit him. I feel awful. He's all out of it and dead looking. It's sad to watch. He is there until Friday or Saturday.

He is in a tiny room called the nuerosurgical ICU. There was only one other person in the room with him. She was a delusional old lady. As I was saying to good bye to my dad her son comes over and is like 'Listen she thinks you're my cousin Angie. I really need you to pretend you're her and tell my mom to eat.' So I had to be this Angie woman and convince this lady to eat her food. It was fun. Then I went to class.

Roar. I am bored. I get to see Laura tonight she is coming in to visit my dad also. We are going to get food and bitch it out. It will be GRAND.

My pounds stopped falling off. I am stagnant. I am pissed. I was looking at pictures from when I was ten pounds less than this I am still looked fat. I'm getting neurotic again, which is positive and negative. Positive for results. Negative because talking about being fat pisses other people off. Whatevs. I will do whatever I must to get back in shape. I'm so tired of not being able to wear pretty clothes because I weigh 1,000 pounds. I am truly the least photogenic person I know.

That is all.