We spent last evening cuddling and watching TV. I was a little sleepy all night and he had a pretty bad case of chapped lips, so I didn't want to make it worse, which normally causes cold sores. I�ll take cuddling, though. I like the warmth and being able to be wrapped in his arms while I throw my leg over him and rest my head on his chest.

I did in fact exchange those low-rise undies. I decided that I really would never wear them, no matter how desperate I got, and I really hate not using gifts. I actually pity the girl who does wear those things, for it means she has no hips and what�s a girl without hips, I ask?

I will be cooking for the first time in a while tonight. I hauled some meat out of the freezer last night and transferred it to the fridge so that I can make chili. I�m getting sick of the leftovers. I feel badly that some of it may just end up going bad, but I think that will begin to teach me that it�s okay to throw things out from time to time. I have food wastage problems, as I can�t stand to see it thrown out and feel compelled to have it all be consumed. When we lunched at the mall the other day, I had eaten half of my food and was already full. Luke looked at me and asked me if I was. When I said yes, he took my stuff and threw it out. It felt good to have him do that, because otherwise, I�d have forced myself to finish it and made myself sick in the process. I managed to put that control in place yesterday when eating my lunch, too. I had some left, but was full and instead of forcing myself to choke it down, I tossed it. I actually reported that when Luke got home and he seemed quite proud of me.

Before the last few days, it always irked me that Luke would leave food on his plate/in his bowl/what have you, but I find myself less bothered by it now because I know that what he does is the right thing. He wasn�t raised with the not-finishing guilt that seems to be so prevalent in our society. I was. I remember my grandfather making me eat baked scallops when I was little, despite my protesting that I didn�t like them. He would also make me eat the crusts of bread. Luke�s upbringing, though weird by any definition (he and his brother have always been essentially allowed to do whatever they please, seeing as his brother comes home high on a regular basis and drinks to excess all he wants with no consequences), was right in that one respect. I generally don�t agree with M�s childrearing strategies, seeing as kids need controls in place in order to become decent people, and she doesn�t put any controls there.

C steals and is downright cruel to people on top of the drugs and drinking. He is never reprimanded for any of these things and thus thinks himself in the right for doing so. I also forgot to mention that he�s on SSRIs for depression and an anxiety disorder, which can have wretched interactions with alcohol and drugs. The way I see it, if M gave a damn, she would make him stop, but she doesn�t. I�m just waiting to have to go to his funeral next year when he drinks himself to death in his first year of college.