The new name of the list.

How to murder a child.
How to make your child develop an eating disorder.
How to get your daughter to lose weight.
And the list of names that I can use for what my mother told me today.
I asked her to massage my legs.
After a while she focused on my knee, and I reapted her, asking for her to do it on my calves, she said that she don't like to touch soft things, like sponge, she likes the bone.
You have no idea what it done to me.
Okay.
I used to have a problem with the idea of under 40, yeah, now 36 seems legitimate.
Fuck you mother.
Really.
I wish you'd die.
Because the pleasure you'll get, enjoying and savoring the feeling when I'll start losing weight enough for my hair falling out like autumn leaves, and fainting will be something I might have.
I'll do it.
I'm so fucking pissed.
I should keep myself a picture of bones.
I'm not stupid, so I'll pick a picture of a skeleton of a squirrel/cat/bat/wolverin, something intresting, and I can't use the skeletons of my own Christian school.
My vision of that school, is that every single student's name will be Christian/a, and every teachers first/last name will start with G (because then you can call them all Mr. G or Ms. G or anything like G, the G-man), I'm incredibly stupid and smart because of it.

You have no idea what it done to me, you have no idea how satanic it is to call your daughter fat in such a way!