Once my sister told me I should try parting my hair to the extreme side. I told her I was unable to pull this look off because it made me look like a 'balding donkey,' what, with my five-head and prominent facial features. I've had people tell me when I flip my hair to the side it looks really good, but I look into the mirror and I see a balding donkey staring back, so this look never leaves the confines of my house.
I've made out with a lot of people in my day... most of them were moments of desperation I should like to forget. I made some pretty poor choices in the make out department for a few years running; I think I was just trying to find a guy who would call me back after all he got at the end of the night was a kiss and nothing more. At one point I didn't even care what the person looked like or what kind of douchebag they were, everyone was free game. I made out with a guy who started talking about how sharks like to bite each other before having sex, and that really freaked me out. I still can't believe my friends allowed that one to happen. I also made out with this guy who is even thinner than me, with tons of tats and like, two hairs on his head... that was another sketchy night I can't believe ever happened in retrospect. Once I made out with this kid who was a former drug addict and was using me for a pot connection. I thought I fell in love with him and was shattered the next night when I heard him call someone on the other end of his phone conversation "baby." Thank god my bf came into the picture when he did or lord only knows what kind of poor decisions I would have made.
I like to do naked squats in the morning wearing only a pair of high heels. It makes me feel like a female version of Patrick Bateman, but it has been most affective on my muscles.
The summer I was 21, my bestfriend and I had a week that later came to be known as 'rage week.' We both had some personal issues behind our alleged rage; mine was fueled by the fact I was a 21 year old virgin and no guys who showed interest in me ever called me back because I didn't put out. I was in the midst of a quarter life crisis that would go on for another 8 months or so, culminating in one of the most eye-opening moments of clarity after a series of bad decisions led me to rock bottom. lmao... so dramatic I know ;) Anyhow, we had many adventures both sober and drunk that week, and ran from the cops not once, but twice. Classy.
I blocked this memory out until I was about 11 or 12 and then one day it struck me; I was in Gross Motor Skills as a kindergartener. This was a class primarily occupied by developmentally/severely physically challenged children (those in the 'Special Ed.' class). Apparently, I was so clumsy and prone to walking into shit, and awful at catching and throwing, my gym teacher suggested this class to my mother. While everyone else in Mrs. Johnson's class had afternoon playtime, I was taken out of class to go toss dodge balls up and down, walk in straight lines, and jump over a sedentary rope with mentally challenged kids. I forgot about this until middle school when I found myself always being picked last for kickball teams and must have had those recurring emotions of failure and being a castoff.
I can't eat animal fat. I consume massive quantities of fat calories daily; I will drink a cup of heavy cream in my coffee, eat potato chips, eat anything battered, fried, or sauteed in oil, devour chocolate bars, but I cut every last bit of fat off of my meat, because the texture disgusts me.
In the morning, and in the afternoon, I use alone time in my car to scream obscenities and vent my daily frustrations: for example, on the morning commute, I scream, "I fucking hate my job!!!!!!, I fucking miss my boyfriend!!!!! How the fuck did a girl like me end up working at Mollister?! Someone fucking kill me neow!" And then suddenly life seems a little bit more humorous and a little bit more tolerable and I manage to survive another 9 hour shift. People passing me must think I'm on my way to kill someone if they catch me screaming.
