Fairly attractive married women of a certain age seeks moderation in all domains.
She had contacted specialists, psychologists, psychiatrists…she had been put away, like a bag of junk discarded in a dusty corner of the garage. She had also, on two occasions, committed herself, knowing that her state could only worsen. She drank. A lot. She sobered up. Her body knew nothing about moderation. She was frighteningly thin, she gained 20 pounds, making her horrified by her own gelatinous image in the mirror. Dressing was a Sisyphean task for her as her size was in constant transformation. She worked out like crazy, smoked always, quit smoking. Looked for work, gave up on looking, wanted so much more than she was capable of. Mainly she just wanted to stop hating herself.
Her sexuality was tainted by her poor body-image, by her excessive neediness, by her constant desire to please everyone around her. She was insatiable and the sexless life she had inadvertently chosen was like a punishment she administered to herself day after day. Her highs were too high, her lows like a bottomless cesspool of loathing. An idiotic dog chasing it’s own tail, the more she wanted to embrace the beauty of life, the more she wanted to die because she was so completely unable to do so.