So I received an email from a friend of mine today asking if I was ok, she had heard down a very long grapevine that I had had a falling out with a couple of friends of mine. She had also heard that one (we'll call her Girl C), has been frantically emailing the other (we'll call her Girl K) with details of all the things going on in my life. Girl C has access to such information because she is emailing me, she wants to 'keep in touch' because we have known each other for so long, and she is falling over herself in these emails to congratulate me about buying a house, she also wants to know progress on my endometriosis, which she calls my 'problem section'. I have been replying to these emails with curt, polite replies, in which I am also happy for her in her achievements; I have told her I am buying a house but I have not elaborated any more, and I have not told her anything about my 'problem section' because I have never felt more patronised in my life than when she called it that. When I offered more information about going on holiday with some friends, she asked who these 'mysterious friends' were, so such offers of more information have ceased.
The email from a friend of mine details how Girl C is telling Girl K that I am fat now.
FAT.
FAT.
FAT.
I am sat at a PC in Keighley, North Yorkshire unsure whether it is entirely appropriate to burst into tears while trying to clear data errors. Girl C is on a plane to Fuerteventura and she better hope that her flight back is cancelled, and all further flights are cancelled, and she has to live in Fuerteventura for THE REST OF HER LIFE because if I ever see her again........
All further email correspondance between myself and Girl C is from this moment on terminated.
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