^^ SHEL. SHEL SILVERSTEIN. WHERE ARE YOU. YOU SHOULD BE HERE.
^^ I need this. I need this so I can walk straight up to you when I get home and slap you straight across the face. And then say, "See ya bub. I ain't scared of no dimwit like you."
GO LISTEN TO THE MASON BY TOSSING COPPER RIGHT THIS SECOND. But only if you are a female traveling through the winding roads of heartache. There's only one pro that comes out of such a thing, and that's the fact that your forlorn gaze out of train windows is justified, whilst listening to songs, such as the one above.
As an average female, I understand the
struggle of receiving sudden spurts of dedication to fitness. All at once,
you're all gung-ho about green smoothies, running 3 miles a day and eating
carrots as snacks (HA CARROTS AS SNACKS. pleez.) And you're all, yeah I'm gonna lose ten pounds and
tone these thunder thighs and strut around in all those cute summer outfits I
pinned. So you start off your slow jog and halfway through recognize
the fact that you'd rather be eating. But you persevere because bikini body. Then you come
home and make a bee-line for the mirror and you're like ... wait. I'm still ...
I look exactly the same. But I just ran for like 10 minutes. And I just ate
like 6 carrot sticks. WHY IS THE FAT STILL HERE. And then you're like, well shizbarf, now I have to run
more? I have to keep doing this? For how long? I was planning tomorrow to be my
cheat day where I could eat McDonalds and bake cookies and eat a whole gallon
of ice cream and watch movies for 5 hours.
That's when I usually give up and decide
either I'll start next Monday or New Years. And definitely by sometime after
New Years in case I get super busy around January with all the sitting I
have to do. You know. And if not then, definitely when
I get engaged.
Below is a blurp (which is now a word
describing things that come out of my fingers too fast) of ... yeah a blurp, that I typed
quickly when I was too lazy to elaborate at that moment.
frumpy, pathetic, underage Victoria's
Secret Angel. pubescent disaster.
Somedays I get
discouraged because I'm single. And on those days, I tend to come across short
sentences or vague descriptions I wrote on my phone to remind me of something I
need to write about. (i.e. the above blurp) And when I find gems like these, that's
when I say, ohhhh, yes. Yeah, that's why I'm single.
So, with that, for whatever reason, my horrific
junior high days have been on my mind. I shudder to think that there are still people
present in my life who knew me then and know me now. And that they may have
never before seen pictures that they can blackmail me with. Honestly I’d give
them anything.
Below is a compilation of all the happenings I
could remember, that labeled me as noted above. A pubescent disaster.
1. For Halloween one year, I was a fairy. A flat
chested, brace faced fairy, who left a chunk of hair out of her ponytail to
resemble bangs. I roamed the halls looking similar to a frumpy, pathetic,
underage Victoria’s Secret Model. In my Spanish class, I remember knocking a
small carton of chocolate milk off of the desk next to me because I turned too
quickly, not aware of the necessary safety
space needed for my 6 foot wings.
2. I distinctly remember walking around the halls
of my junior high, carrying a large apple pie because I am me, and being
followed by this ridiculously obsessed boy who had a crush on me, but of
course, never said words to my face because … junior high.
3. In my choir class, I got a demerit card, along
with a couple other girls, for chewing gum during class. I started crying.
Being reprimanded for chewing gum was a lot to take in, ok?
4. While walking through the empty halls after
lunch with some friends, one of the girls behind me found an orange on the
ground and was inclined to throw it, because she was an idiot, and it hit me square
in the neck. It felt like someone had just throat punched me. I didn’t cry
though, because I remember thinking, Oh
my goodness. She just threw an orange at my throat. How in the world do these things happen to me?
5. I owned a boys transformers shirt. It was bright
red and Optimus Prime stood tall and proud on the front of it. It also lit up
when you touched it. I owned this shirt. And I wore it to school. Sometimes I
think I am the oddest person I will ever know.
6. One of the boys who rode my bus home liked me
for a time, and put his arm around me one day while we were sitting next to
each other. I resisted, as one who is alarmed and 13 years old would, but he
refused to loosen his grip and I ended up in an affectionate headlock. SOS.
For whatever reason, I've planted in my own mind this crazy idea to go rock climbing. I've been once before and I made it through half of a 3rd climb before my arms said you're so funny you don't have muscles silly we're leaving. And then I came down. But. I'm attempting it again. I've been losing so many battles lately and I've decided I'm going to pick a battle I can win. For sure. I can stand face to face with my fear of heights and scale that daunting rock wall. AND WIN ONE GOSH DARN BATTLE.
Life right now has got me like why you gotta play me like that?
MP
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