I love looking in the mirror and feeling the poison in my soul. Hatred. Pessimism. Pure self-loathing. And visual distortions. What the hell do I look like anyway?
I asked my wife if I was fatter or thinner than I tend to think I am. She doesn’t know and admitted as much. And then she hinted that I look fatter than I think because I don’t tend to take weight loss seriously. If I knew how I looked, she stated, I’d lose the damn weight.
She’s frustrated, too. The difference is that she doesn’t secretly enjoy her frustration as I do.
Well, if you don’t understand the hidden joys of self-sabotage, I can’t help you here, but learn about psychological attachments.