My lovely friend, who wishes to remain anonymous, made a blog! So cute!!! She found this picture, that looks like it should be a part of those Dove commercials about loving your body and yourself. Anyway, it was refreshing.

I've been so stressed this week because I've been studying all week for this test I have Friday and I'm still not even through reviewing half of it. And then on top of things, my roommate went missing. We found her, nothing bad happened, but we were sitting around this afternoon and I turned to one of them and asked her when was the last time she had seen our missing roomie. Sunday night was our joint answer.

This accumulation of stress has just left me feeling....well, crazy to be perfectly honest.
So I did what all crazy people do when they need to wash their cares away...I tuned up some fun music like Hold It In by Jukebox Ghost, Tilly and the Wall, and Time To Pretend by MGMT and had the most fun time I've had all week. I danced around my crazy dark room in my undies, ohhhhh yeah. I felt like a little kid again. I miss being a kid a lot. I especially miss not constantly worrying about your body image in the back of your head, and not even knowing that you don't have the most perfect body. Not caring. Loving your body like they teach you in Sunday school - "Your body is a temple."

When I was little I worried about having to do actual athletic things in gym class, not how my body looked in my gym uniform. I mean, yeah, I like no longer having to show off how unskilled I am when it comes to hand-eye coordination, but I could take that ten times a day to go back to having such a positive self image.

Gosh, I remember the days I wanted boobs. There was that girl in my sixth grade gym class who was at least a B and you could just hear the depressing sighs come from my peers when we got back to the locker room. We were all so so so jealous of her and her B cup boobs.

Shit I was naive. My flat friends have gotten over the way their gene pool screwed them over and have moved on to the thought of implants. You have GOT TO BE SHITTING ME! They kept coming and coming and coming and now all I want to do is give them away, go back to the days where wearing a sundress didn't pose the threat of looking indecent. The days when fashion still flowed with my body and designers didn't create that stupid line across the chest that doesn't look good with any decent C or above.

Aileen asked me if I'd be there for when she got her tattoo, if she ever did. I said of course. I asked her to be there if I ever could brave getting a reduction. Only if we do it together, she said. The shittiest thing of all is to get a reduction, for no medical reason, they told her they'd need to take at least a pound, each. Hell, that's like getting a mastectomy. When I was a little girl swinging on the monkey bars and chasing my friends around in a game of tag I never thought of these cultural side effects.

Tonight was the best bra and panties party. Tonight was the best going crazy I've ever had.
Gah. I miss dancing in my underwear. Those were the fun days.


Most of all, I miss twirling around real fast, with your arms spread out wide, and your hair flowing behind you in a blur of color. I think I'll do that Friday, to celebrate my test being over.