Tuesday, January 13, 2004

i dream about my friend patrick a lot. i haven't seen him since my birthday party, but i always imagine him there, right next to me. i pretend, sometimes, that i am the most confident woman in the world, and i stroll down hallways and walkways and cruise in the car with my head held high and a swinging gait hoping to draw someone's attention and have them think that i'm not trying to draw their attention. but the only reason i keep my head high is so people don't see the double chin that runs in my family, and i'm embarassed all these extra pieces on me that i'm not supposed to have. i have a big family, so i can usually do just about anything in a crowd--except stop thinking about how my stomach looks on the sides. but i like certain things about me. i like my lips, when i'm wearing cherry chapstick, and the freckles i get on my face after a week at the beach. i like the way my thighs look in jeans after i've worn them once. i like my affinity for color, and making large crowds of girls laugh. i like it when people talk to me even if i don't know them. i like how my friends are so different from each other. i don't like it when i feel like i have no friends. i like the way skirts feel, but i hate my calves, so i don't wear them a lot. i was in a band, in eighth grade, called chasing tempo, and we never practiced together, but we wrote an entire spiral notebook full of songs about a group of girls called the barbie klan. i complain about not being able to get a date, but it's usually not because i'm lonely, it's because i'm vain. i'm embarassed about how much i look at myself in mirrors, and how many clothes i have that i don't wear. i don't like how my hips transition to my thighs, but you can't tell if i'm wearing clothes. i'm embarassed of how i look if my hair doesn't have any body. i get soup and salad every day at lunch, and when i get home, i eat two microwavable chimichangas, telling myself i'm making up for lost time. i'm reading an enthnogrophy of an iraqi village and a fantasy novel about a heroine who can speak to animals. i crave beethoven and taco bell. i don't have any dressy clothes, and i get scared to go shopping for clothes anywhere but thrift stores.

so there. judge as you will.


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