🍗 Deathfat Anna o' Brien / Glitter + Lazers / GlitterandLazers - Fat, drunk, consoomer attention whore who would rather eat and drink herself to death than endure a single negative emotion

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Instead, Amanda probably felt mortified and confused. As a teenager, she also did not have the emotional maturity to know how to help Anna, nor should she have been expected to. She did exactly what she could and should have done: kindly acknowledge it, then share her OWN confusing feelings about it with a FRIEND in what she THOUGHT was private

even the locker note girl! what the fuck did she want to happen? maybe the popular girl had shit going on too! jesus! it's absolutely pathetic how much anna has internalised the bullshit self help 'if i love myself it doesn't matter' type mentality. like no. the real challenge is trying to love others. i know she'll die having never done this but it makes me so MATI seeing such miserable problems in this woman's life with such easy solutions

Its amazing how no one bothered to read through this for her, and point out that maybe she should acknowledge that she was an actual person not an NPC. There isn't one mention of the recepient's potential feelings about this unprompted intrusion.

Anna has always reminded me of Liz Lemon in the scene from 30 Rock where she and Jack go back to her hometown for her 20 year high school reunion.

That kind of emotional vomit on some other person is borderline emotional abuse, imo. I’m not sure exactly which year things happened, but I would assume Anna’s mom was already dead when this locker note event occurred, and to put that on another kid is just awful. I’m not even really judging teenager Anna for doing it, I’m judging adult Anna for not being able to reflect and think “wow, I shouldn’t have done that.” I’m sure we all have things we did as teenagers that we thought were just fine, or maybe we thought it was our only option, but we can look back now, as adults, and think, “Huh. I really shat the bed on that one, I won’t be doing that again.” If you’re not cringing at your teenage self on occasion, there might be something wrong with you. How foolish to believe that you have never been foolish.

As for why no one has come forward re: Anna, I wouldn't be surprised if she's extremely lawyer happy, and anyone who relates even the most minor of anecdotes gets a visit from gentlemen in suits, and thinly veiled threats of what would happen if they didn't take the post or comment down right now.

I wonder how many copyright strikes or things like that she initiates? I feel like I have a vague memory of her trying to strike something once, but honestly I don’t think there’s evidence that’s a normal habit for her, when there would be if it was. I’m sure Ilona would tell us if Anna was causing havoc, but I don’t recall this being an ongoing or repeated issue, if it even happened once (and who else but Ilona or Alan Roberts would she do that to?). Even with all the Scamron stuff, you’d think she’d have caused trouble for someone like Colin Mockery, if she was in the habit of causing trouble for people who speak ill of her. I’m not sure if she has attorneys to sic on former friends and acquaintances.

I think anyone able to escape her orbit is just so glad to be gone, they don’t dare look back lest they turn to a pillar of salt.
 
I’m not sure exactly which year things happened, but I would assume Anna’s mom was already dead when this locker note event occurred, and to put that on another kid is just awful.
Susan passed away a month before Anna’s 19th birthday. Anna dropped out her senior year (she’s not even in the yearbook) and she was away in a student exchange program during her junior(?) year. If this happened, it likely happened before that.

The whole eavesdropping and “I may be having a rough time, but at least I am not putting notes in people’s lockers about it” quote sounds like something out of a tv script, not the way a teenage girl would speak to a friend. I doubt this actually happened, more likely Anna fabricated it to give her the mental ammunition she needed to blame “Amanda” for not responding the way Anna wanted.
 
Susan passed away a month before Anna’s 19th birthday. Anna dropped out her senior year (she’s not even in the yearbook) and she was away in a student exchange program during her junior(?) year. If this happened, it likely happened before that.

The whole eavesdropping and “I may be having a rough time, but at least I am not putting notes in people’s lockers about it” quote sounds like something out of a tv script, not the way a teenage girl would speak to a friend. I doubt this actually happened, more likely Anna fabricated it to give her the mental ammunition she needed to blame “Amanda” for not responding the way Anna wanted.

Yeah, the more I think about it, it just isn’t feeling right. The way this girl is described as the “Prophetess of Popularity” and “oracle of popularity” (are you kidding me?), but she’s a high school sophomore? Maybe suburban Ohio high schools were just different than mine (and totally possible) but I feel like that’s too young to be that influential.

Of course I don’t believe anyone’s names are real, but our girl ~A~nna wrote a story about an ~A~shley and an ~A~manda… I wonder if she’s just so unimaginative that she can’t think past names that start with the first letter of the alphabet, or if she’s making these stories up and because no one but Anna exists in the world, these characters are just different versions of herself, and she gives them names similar to her own because she’s that pathetic.

And I think you’re right about the quote, it definitely doesn’t sound right. The part where the girl thanks Anna for the note reminds me of the episode of Friends where Ross’s girlfriend said “thank you” when he said “I love you.”
 
As for why no one has come forward re: Anna[...]
My money is on the fact that, to most people who have known her and had to deal with her, she's either a nonentity, or else not worth looking like a complete schmuck by stepping forward and spilling the tea.

The other LDS kids she knew, even if they are no longer in the church, would likely remember how poor Anna had a difficult home life due to her fatness and her mom's illness, and, as kids, they would have been counseled by adults to be kind to her because she was "troubled." As adults—assuming they're even aware of what she's been up to—they may still see her influencer antics through the lens of pity, because she's clearly still troubled, and a lot fatter. They knew Anna personally as a kid, and have memories of that, and thus can be sad for her as an adult in a way strangers like us can't.

As for her non-LDS classmates, they went to good schools in a nice area, and have more than likely gone on to do respectably well for themselves. At the very least, they're in positions in life career- and family-wise where coming out and dishing the dirt on a former classmate is just going to make them look bad. Anna, when they knew her, was the object of pity at best, and derision at worst, but she hasn't done anything to them personally, has committed no crimes, and is only harming herself. And anybody who picked on her back in the day isn't going to do it, because they don't want to be identified as someone who bullied the sad, dorky fat girl.

If she came from a place where people have nothing to lose by stirring up old drama and telling embarrassing stories about somebody who is now famous, that would be one thing, but she doesn't, and seriously, she's not that famous. Millions of followers on social media don't make you a big name when the vast majority of them are bots. There just isn't a good enough reason for anybody to come out and spill the beans on Anna, and that's why nobody's done it.
 
The whole eavesdropping and “I may be having a rough time, but at least I am not putting notes in people’s lockers about it” quote sounds like something out of a tv script, not the way a teenage girl would speak to a friend.
Even if it did happen, anyone with half a brain and a moral compass would recognise that it was a reasonable reaction. Some kid you've never spoken to decides to drop a letter into your locker, full of all their personal woes and uncomfortable idolization of you? Yeah, anyone would be weirded out by that. She just breezes past the part where Amanda says she's going through a rough patch too.

Anna being a stalkerish freak dropping trauma dump letters in a stranger's locker? Perfectly valid and normal. Amanda confiding in a close friend about having a stranger dump all their self pity onto her while she's struggling with her own personal issues? Apparently she's a "garbage person" now. Even though she went out of her way to spare Anna's feelings and personally thank her for the letter.

Truly a baffling insight into the way she views all her interactions, but unsurprising all the same.
 
And now she dumps her life on the internet for validation every day. Hauling thousands of dollars of swimsuits and paying $7k in rent and whining that some people on the internet are mean to her.

We are all Amanda.
 
Honestly, stuff like these excerpts makes me wonder if Anna has a touch of the ole 'tism in addition to her known ADHD. I've just never known someone with that to be so... socially retarded?!? Impulsive, sure. Interrupting you because they can't wait the 7 gd seconds it'll take for you to finish your sentence? Sure. I just can't get around her breathtaking lack of basic theory of mind - it's not even a lack of empathy per se. It's like the notion of other people having an internal life that doesn't revolve around her doesn't even occur to her.

I just cannot with the locker love note story. Who does that?? That poor girl. No idea what she had going on herself, but even without that, it's just so excruciatingly awkward. I can picture it so clearly; just reaching into her locker looking for her geography binder or something, only to find this spergtastic tragicomedy novella from White Chick Fat Albert waiting instead. Wouldn't surprise me if Anna hung around to watch her find it or something, so then you actually have to deal with her budding halitosis in person... :ratface:

Literally no idea how Anna expected her to react. I wasn't exactly a mean girl in high school, but Jesus that one would have tested me...

:shit-eating:

'I'm not trying to be a bully here, Anna... but you're making this far too easy'

And for her to still, now, as a 40 year old (over)grown-ass woman, see this from the same myopic perspective she had back then? What kind of personality disorder on illegal bathtub steroids is this?? I would have thought that even narcissists typically have theory of mind, they just don't care enough to really dwell on it. It seems to just fundamentally not. even. occur. to Anna. Maybe she's just on some kind of secret Mormon elite-tier narcissism the rest of us plebians just can't even aspire to.
 
See, and here I was thinking that the book wouldn't have fertile soil for us to plant our funny little flow-words into. (That pun was so bad, I almost feel a need to request autistic ratings.)

Regardless of whether these incidents truly took place - I am skeptical, given that Anna is a known habitual weaver of tall tales - what I find most telling is that she found these stories worthwhile of publication and attaching her name to. Maybe these stories are real (or slightly embellished) and are extremely damning of Anna's undiluted narcissism, or maybe they are entirely falsified and she doesn't mind having an entire alleged memoir that paints her to be a liar; the point is that neither depicts her kindly, but she is either too clueless to see that or doesn't care, and that explains a lot about her as a person.

I can tell Anna is a weird shut-in with no friends because she views everything through what I call the 'media lens': nothing that happens in her life is mundane, ends too abruptly/takes too long or has no real meaning or purpose to it. She attaches meaning to everything she does and acts as if merely eating a crapload of salty snacks is somehow a Pinterest board statement about loving yourself in spite of hardships - she can't simply just be a fat chick that likes snacks. Can't just be a woman on vacation alone, she has to be on some sort of soul-searching escapade; can't just be getting healthcare from her providers, it has to be a "healing journey." She can't just let anything be as it is without embellishment, which is likely what drew her to the influencer lifestyle in the first place.

Her life is televised: it's a Hallmark movie, a teen comedy, a Lifetime drama, an episode of Mystery Diagnosis. She never just sees her life as it is - a slovenly, lonesome life full of polyester/rayon blend sweatshop shit with a dog this close to its 13th Reason - and this is why she's never going to get better. Turn off the TV, Anna, and step outside.
 
I know the story is fake because in real life, that girl would copy the note and distribute it to the entire school. Or pin it on the bulletin board. Or read it loudly during recess for all to hear.

I know I would. I would have felt bad over it as an adult but teenagers are fucking cruel, and bullying awkward losers is a way the herd keeps retards in check.

So anyway. Fake story. Terrible writing, too.
 
when I was out of control and so far from normal,
Anna wrote this line. She had some very slight insight that she was out of control and not normal, but these glimmers of reality are like specks of dust in a ray of sun. They easily disappear and are waved away. She also rewrites her abnormalities as quirky or creative rather than the serious psychological problems they are.

I imagine nobody has come forward because nobody remembers Anna. She was the ugly, badly dressed fat kid and so in awe of popularity that she probably never opened her mouth. She was like wallpaper with eyes. I also think Anna imagined bullying in every unintentional glance, in every girl who laughed nearby. I’m not Mormon but if the sweet culture plays a role than maybe she wasn’t attacked or had items thrown at her, was just completely invisible, which for her is worse. There was no sandwich, just like there was no guy who threatened her out of New York after her Gillette commercial. . She ate alone daily and she only spoke to the popular girls to kiss ass about their outfits, and they ignored her.

She blossomed in college, she said, which likely means that’s where the obnoxious, overcompensating behavior began.

I doubt any of these stories are completely true but even if parts of them are, the fact that she hasn’t updated her thought process and analyzed where she went wrong in these situations is telling. It’s just ‘Anna good, everybody else mean’, just like today. Especially with the letter story; the fact that she can’t recognize how sick and needy she was, how it had to be a popular girl she poured her heart out to, not another nobody like her, says a lot about her values and manipulations. She didn’t want to be heard or have a friend, she wanted to be accepted by this group and used trauma to do it. When she dismisses the other young girl as monstrous for not accepting her instantly shows her deep-rooted disorder-even if the story is not true. It’s sick, it almost doesn’t matter.

The way she described how much she hated those kids after the letter incident reminded me of school shooter thoughts. (Not saying she’d be a shooter, just the misplaced rage feels similar.). If she’d written that down back then there might have been a different outcome for Anna-some mental health help or guidance.

My fanfiction about the moped story is that Anna semi-stalked this girl throughout childhood and because their parents were friends the girl had to put up with her. Ashley probably didn’t want to renew the friendship in college to see how Anna had changed, as Anna seemed excited about, and Ashley also didn’t want to play Barbies again. They saw each other “often” but not too often, Anna assures us, but it was often, they were friends. She uses often three times in two sentences.

So we come to the fateful event that causes Anna’s lifelong distrust of humanity. I imagine Ashley did not want to take Anna on the bike that day and likely said no or made excuses. Anna guilted her into it, couldn’t lean into the curve as Ashley feared which caused the crash. Anna blithely says she’ll pay for damage and leaves but for all we know the bike was totaled and Ashley was injured. Anna said she made some attempts at apologizing, but we’ve all seen psychosomatic shrimp, and we know Anna blamed Ashley. Ashley had thought she was free of Anna after high school but due to proximity in college gave her another chance, but this situation ended it. And of course, Ashley is at fault and hurt Anna so badly she is untrusting to this day.

Anna’s entire life she’s been a victim: her dad not letting her have cookies, the popular kids not seeing her greatness, mystery illnesses that make her fat and nobody understanding how hard she has it, and now the reactors who have discovered her and are misunderstanding her. She gave a lecture once to Citibank (I think) on how to handle haters, but Anna is at a loss when it’s her own life and she takes none of her own advice.

Sad, pathetic, from beginning to end. It’s clear no revelation or change is coming. Social media is how she makes money so she can’t quit yet (unless she has enough investments, but she did mention how expensive these procedures are.) The bitterness will grow. Should be interesting.
 
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I know the story is fake because in real life, that girl would copy the note and distribute it to the entire school. Or pin it on the bulletin board. Or read it loudly during recess for all to hear.

I know I would. I would have felt bad over it as an adult but teenagers are fucking cruel, and bullying awkward losers is a way the herd keeps retards in check.

So anyway. Fake story. Terrible writing, too.
Slight PL, I was not Regina George, my school didn't have a singular really popular girl, but I could be a bit of a mean girl, and I totally would have read that out loud to my table in the cafeteria.
 
A few more excerpts from the book:

In which Anna is so committed to her work that she doesn't shower and shows up to the office filthy and greasy. Note the insane misquotation from Game of Thrones near the end.
In 2012, I took a job in a technology startup as employee number twenty-something. Now for those of you only familiar with technology startups from TV shows and movies, it is not the party, double-polo-shirt wearing, popped-collar lifestyle it is often portrayed as. Instead it is long days, often sleepless nights and an ever growing list of demands you can never really keep up with. In the beginning it felt exciting, and the adrenaline (plus lots and lots of caffeine) helped me power through the crazy cocktail of fatigue and pressure. It made me feel powerful, and the high I got from creating something new and innovative made me feel invincible.

However, after about two years, I started to crack. I was sick all the time. I forfeited going to birthdays and weddings, to work on the next big assignment or to just sleep. Sleep was a luxury I could rarely afford. I never had time to see my friends. On the rare occasion I did, I would babble insistently on about my job. Work. Work. Workity work work. It was my everything. My emotions became tied to the success of my projects and the growth of the company. Numbers were up? I was having an amazing day. Software was on the blitz? Do not poke the bear. I’d given up on myself in favor of my career.

The signs were everywhere. My apartment was in a constant state of disarray. I was never home, so who cared if I lived in a giant pile of clothes dusted with the bags from takeouts past? My shower schedule was based on when I had meetings. Big sit-down with a client? I showered. Otherwise I lived life as a greasy filth monkey; I was the adult version of Pigpen from Charlie Brown. Except my dirt cloud wasn’t drawn in—it was real. My clothes followed suit. On the days we had clients, I dressed well—as if I was donning some sort of boss-lady superhero costume. Otherwise, I wandered into my office in leggings and some variation of a moderately clean T-shirt. I had taken myself completely out of my life. I had stopped taking care of myself and I was headed for a breakdown.

Maybe you’ve experienced something like this before, where you wake up and all of a sudden everything seems one hundred times more difficult to do. Your body feels heavy, your mind feels like mush, and you have no motivation to do anything except play Candy Crush on your phone and cry. That’s what ended up happening to me. I laid in my bed for two days straight, only getting up to go to the bathroom. I thought I was depressed, but the doctor told me the truth—I was exhausted. I had put everyone else’s needs in front of my own and in the end I’d lost the ability to take care of myself. I was depleted, worn-out, and practically used up.

I needed to take better care of myself. I started my Instagram account as a way to force a little “me” time into my life. Some might call it vanity, but getting dressed every day became the time I invested in myself. It wasn’t about PowerPoints or deadlines, it was about investing in myself and exploring my creativity. I’ll admit at first I felt a teensy bit guilty about my indulgence. That quickly passed as I began to see that everyone was benefiting. I thought that if I cut back, work would fall apart. It didn’t. Actually, by reducing the hours I worked and giving myself some mental space from my job, my work improved. I wasn’t exhausted all the time and could think more clearly when completing tasks. This makes sense—research from Stanford University found that after about fifty hours of work, our productivity and output plummets. I was able to get more done in less time because I was making fewer careless mistakes.

I had needlessly been worried people would see me as conceited. Instead they saw me as more committed to my job. Showing up well-groomed gave the appearance I was more committed to what I did. What I ultimately learned is that the more you care for yourself, the more you are able to care for and support the ones (and the work) you love. I wish I didn’t need to have a breakdown to realize that.

I urge you, don’t be like me. Don’t learn the hard way. Today is just as good a day as any other day to start valuing you. The single greatest lesson I’ve learned (and ultimately the most difficult and painful as well) is that I matter. That it’s ok to make a decision because it’s the best choice for you. That you don’t have to say yes to everything others ask of you. You cannot physically or mentally help anyone else until your own house is in order. In trying to please others you lose yourself; knowing who you are and what truly motivates you is only found by making the space for self-care in your life.

Like many new things, it’s scary. It’s hard. It’s uncomfortable. However, in the end you walk away with the benefits of a strong sense of self. To quote Game of Thrones: “Once you know and own who you are, it can never be used against you.” A person who loves themselves is a force to be reckoned with.

She's sent to a special school for unruly children at age 13.
I should note that when I was thirteen, I was angry and deeply sad. My home life was challenging, I definitely didn’t have the media-driven “cool teenager” body, and I was awkward. I was really awkward. Eventually that sadness spilled out into my life through anger. I cussed, I fought, and I got in too much trouble. I was so unruly that I was sent to a special school for wayward children. Perhaps this sounds like the plot of a well-orchestrated children’s novel. It’s not. People simply began to lose faith in me, and as a result, I began to lose faith in myself.

On the outside, I became the neighborhood child that parents didn’t want their kids to play with. On the inside, I was a mixed bag of negative emotions. I felt lonely, angry at the world, envious of those with simpler lives, and confused as to who I was. I was desperate to turn my life around, but given the circumstances, it all seemed overwhelming and hopeless.

I remember very clearly sitting in this classroom of unruly children pondering my future. To the left, a teacher was literally tackling a student who’d begun a violent outburst. To the right, another student was slowly punching the front of their forehead over and over; sometimes the person we bully most is ourselves. In this terrible moment, I realized something had to change. Maybe it was some sort of divine intervention or, maybe just maybe, I was sick and tired of the person I was. I couldn’t change the circumstances around me, so I would have to be the one to change. If I didn’t, my life would be a complete waste. It was then that my story began to evolve.

Early running LARP starts with a dream and climaxes with "running in the sun with the fields at my back" lol. This book was published in 2018, I don't remember her ever citing her previous love of running during last year's LARP.
Have you ever had a dream that seemed silly or impossible, but knew in your heart of hearts that you had to achieve it? I remember having a dream where I was running. I was speeding through cornfields, zooming down alleyways, and feeling the wind at my back. In that dream, I felt free. I woke up that morning convinced I was meant to be a runner.

Prior to my hazy revelation, my experience with running was minimal to say the least. I had probably run a total of a quarter-mile in the past six years combined. I could not even remember the last time I ran anywhere; I didn’t even own tennis shoes. Despite how ill-equipped I was, I made up for it in spirit. Despite all the reasons why this might be a bad idea, I headed to the shoe store and bought my first pair of running shoes.

What I have always found odd is that when you try to change your habits, so many people rush to tell you that you can’t. Fat girls can’t run. You’re going to injure yourself. You should stick to walking. Perhaps you feel this now. You have the dream, but find that the world around you seems to be trying to stop you from even trying. You expect the world to cheer you on, but often it doesn’t.

I started running a minute at a time. Those were the longest minute-intervals of my life. I’d stand hunched over at the end, gasping for breath and praying that I wouldn’t die. However, little by little, I got better. I began running farther for longer. I never ran very fast, but I was running—I was doing it. It was a magical day the first time I ran in the sun with the fields at my back. My dream became my reality.

College roommate Tracie confronts Anna about their messy apartment.
When I was in my final year of college, I was, in short, a hot mess. I was nervous about not having the internship I needed to actually graduate. I was very aware that I had no job, no money, and no place to live as soon as I took that apparently super-fulfilling walk across the podium and grabbed my degree. I was also deeply immersed in a competitive senior project that my Type A personality had committed to win, even though the only prize of winning seemed to be lack of sleep. I was basically Oscar the Grouch, living in a garbage can filled with emotions, anxiety, and stress.

It was after a particularly bad day that my best friend and roommate, Tracie, tried to discuss the cleanliness of our apartment. The current state was a war zone of random food wrappers and neon green fur scraps left from the alien characters I was sewing for my advertising final. We have all been there. That lovely point where life becomes so challenging and overwhelming that your day-to-day becomes an act of survival. “I know you’re stressed, but you need to clean this up,” Tracie said in a bizarre tone, a mix of kindness and annoyance. It was then that the ticking time bomb of stress exploded inside me. I screamed. I whined. I stomped off to my room like a petulant child. It was a miracle I didn’t slam the door.

As I sat in my room I started to stew over how cruel Tracie had been. If she wanted a clean apartment—she could clean it! However, as you probably well know, when you sit long enough with your thoughts, you begin to think about things you’ve been avoiding. You also realize the people you’ve taken them out on, like a good friend, who just wanted a clean living space. Just as the guilt was setting in, I heard a ghostly, giggly voice pipe through my air vent, “ANNNNNNNA, you want to take Tracie to Sonic because you are sorrrrrry and she’s sorry too.” Our relationship was as resilient as we were weird.
 
I was only a mean girl to my actual friends. If I got the locker note I'd probably have done exactly what Amanda did, because I'd be baffled.

However, I was in grade 8 when the Columbine shooting happened and that had a lot of reverberations. If I had received the locker note in the six months or so after Columbine, I probably would have shown it to a teacher, and who knows what the consequences would have been. And then I'd avoid Anna like the plague.

I wonder if Anna would liked that outcome. Once again: wtf did she think would happen??
 
Honestly, stuff like these excerpts makes me wonder if Anna has a touch of the ole 'tism in addition to her known ADHD. I've just never known someone with that to be so... socially retarded?!?

Please don't take this the wrong way--nothing against you--but I am SICK. TO. FUCKING. DEATH.

of the aUtIsM being pushed/suggested everywhere. It's the !!!!!!ALL NEW!!!!!!! ADHD. We need to knock this off YESTERDAY. I used to teach high school SPED, both in self contained and mainstreamed kids. I am a case manager. I work with all kinds of people including cognitively and developmentally challenged.

Sometimes a pipe is just a pipe. Or, in Anna's case, she's just a piece of shit person and nothing more. Please do not give miss medical misinformation another COVETED excuse.
 
The signs were everywhere. My apartment was in a constant state of disarray. I was never home, so who cared if I lived in a giant pile of clothes dusted with the bags from takeouts past? My shower schedule was based on when I had meetings. Big sit-down with a client? I showered. Otherwise I lived life as a greasy filth monkey; I was the adult version of Pigpen from Charlie Brown. Except my dirt cloud wasn’t drawn in—it was real. My clothes followed suit. On the days we had clients, I dressed well—as if I was donning some sort of boss-lady superhero costume. Otherwise, I wandered into my office in leggings and some variation of a moderately clean T-shir

So what is her excuse now for being a pig? She can walk 15k steps a day but can't dedicate half an hour a day to hoover and pick up takeaway boxes?

Quite fascinating to see how she was an obnoxious weirdo in her teens, 20s, 30s and even in to her 40s. She's learned nothing, hasn't evolved as a person, has zero introspection or ability to take accountability. It's all fantasy land and none of her troubles are her fault.

Talking of accountability - what happened to the daily accountability posts? Has her pain med dose been reduced?
 
I read some of Anna's book yesterday. I mostly skimmed looking for personal anecdotes. I did not like reading this book because it's written like an inspirational book of advice and I don't think she's an inspirational person so I do not want her advice on how to live. I was actually worried about unintentionally absorbing bad advice from her. I particularly didn't like her writing about how to love your body. She hates her body and it is so apparent in everything she does, even down to the way she carelessly slaps moisturizer on her face. People who love their bodies simply do not do what she does. It's the same as if someone moved into a nice new house and turned it into a crack house full of rotting trash and then burned it down, and then wrote a chapter full of advice for other people about how to love your house.

Anyway, here's one anecdote I thought was interesting that I don't think was covered yet:

In middle school, I played intramural basketball and sang a fullbodied alto in the school choir. One-not so-fateful evening, I justso happened to have a choral extravaganza scheduled for justan hour after a basketball game. I had sixty minutes to stripdown, shower, redress, primp and high-tail it back to the school.This might have been a challenge for an everyday child insecondary school, but not for one Anna O’Brien. I had speed. Ihad determination. I had yet to develop an evolved self-care andbeauty routine.As soon as I entered the house after the game, I sprang intoaction. In record speed, I flung my basketball uniform onto thefloor, turned the shower on to a suitable warmth, and beforeyou could sing the lyrics to an entire Fleetwood Mac song, I wasblow drying my hair. I was crushing it. As I pulled my curlingiron out to give my hair just a little “I’m singing a solo in a semiimportant school event” sparkle, my mom yelled at me fromdown below.“Anna, you have five minutes and whatever you do don’t leavethe curling iron on. Do. Not. Leave.The Curling. Iron. On.” Imade my promise and continued to speed transform my hairinto fancy-as-can-be ringlets of choral perfection. Within just afew minutes, I was done; I tossed on clean, performance-readyattire and was on my way to dazzle the parents of KenstonMiddle School with my vocal rendition of a poorly arrangedselection of upbeat disco songs.The performance went as well as a middle-school performancecould go and we found our way headed back to our cul de sachouse in suburban Ohio. As we rounded the corner onto thestreet where we lived, we saw them—two bright red shiny firetrucks parked in our circular driveway. My mother immediatelysmacked me. “I told you not to leave the curling iron on.” But itwasn’t the curling iron that started the blaze, it was somethingmuch worse.As we entered the house a fire man stood talking to my father.“We believe this to be the cause of the fire,” he said, holding upa charred bit of elastic. I knew that elastic. It was my underwear.I had accidently thrown my bikini briefs on a lamp, and thedirect contact with the light had set them ablaze.Challenges find you in the most unusual and unexpected ways.Just as I couldn’t anticipate my underwear literally setting myhouse on fire—there will be challenges in your life that, eventhough you are doing everything you possibly can right, showup and wreak havoc.The underwear incident was just my firstunusual experience of many. I’ve been trapped in a snowavalanche, lost in a foreign country, had my apartment flood,and split my pants on the Vegas Strip. I’ve also experiencedtrauma like losing my mother and sister, being robbed whilehome, and accidently ending up in the middle of a knife fight.The amount of crazy and at times downright depressing thingslife has thrown at me has even earned me the endearingnickname Calamity Jane. Wherever I am, there’s a calamity onthe horizon.
 
So what is her excuse now for being a pig? She can walk 15k steps a day but can't dedicate half an hour a day to hoover and pick up takeaway boxes?

Quite fascinating to see how she was an obnoxious weirdo in her teens, 20s, 30s and even in to her 40s. She's learned nothing, hasn't evolved as a person, has zero introspection or ability to take accountability. It's all fantasy land and none of her troubles are her fault.

Talking of accountability - what happened to the daily accountability posts? Has her pain med dose been reduced?
And of course she frames the fact that she lived in a sty and never showered as an act of selflessness on her part:
I had put everyone else’s needs in front of my own and in the end I’d lost the ability to take care of myself. I was depleted, worn-out, and practically used up.

It reminded me of her recent "We need to talk" video (link to Farms archive). She described needing to be helped in and out of bed:
You really just can't do much with your arms, and then your legs are [also] messed up. So, for example, getting up: when your legs are weak, you use your arms. But I couldn't do that. So there were times when I literally had to physically be helped getting in and out of bed, which I did not love, because again, if you haven't catch [sic] the theme of the video, I'm not good at taking help from other people. So I do think physically that's why it was so challenging for me, is I did really have to step back and rely on other people.
The actual truth is probably something like this: "I am so heavy and weak that I cannot get out of bed without pushing myself up with my arms. So when my arms and legs were bandaged, nurses had to physically lift me up to use the commode. Due to my weight, it wasn't safe for two nurses alone to do this, so the team had to recruit a couple of male techs from the X-Ray lab every time I needed to get up. This was humiliating." But in Anna's mind, this experience caused dysphoria because she's just SO independent and does everything herself and just never relies on anyone else!

Every time she eats Nando's until she shits herself she probably congratulates herself on being just SO dedicated to her bahhdy's protein needs and such an overachieving perfectionist that she got even more protein than her daily goal!
 
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Please don't take this the wrong way--nothing against you--but I am SICK. TO. FUCKING. DEATH.

of the aUtIsM being pushed/suggested everywhere. It's the !!!!!!ALL NEW!!!!!!! ADHD. We need to knock this off YESTERDAY. I used to teach high school SPED, both in self contained and mainstreamed kids. I am a case manager. I work with all kinds of people including cognitively and developmentally challenged.

Sometimes a pipe is just a pipe. Or, in Anna's case, she's just a piece of shit person and nothing more. Please do not give miss medical misinformation another COVETED excuse.
Not to sperg, but I agree. If you aren’t struggling with being an adult then you don’t need a damn autism diagnosis. I think it’s only helpful if you need special accommodations otherwise it seems pointless (to me). I once came across an autism forum that gatekept membership to people formally diagnosed and it was really sad to see them say they had to make that space because non-gatekept forums became filled with “self-diagnosed” people who flooded the support group with dumb TikToks about the most generic “autism” signs like….having a fucking hobby. Wait, sorry, I mean ~special interest~ 🙄.


Back to Anna, I have a great mental image of her trying to hide behind a corner, waiting for Amanda to open her locker and find her insane note.
 
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