growing up

breaks my heart.

i remember a time when life was so carefree.

when i could climb trees, and ride my bike,
and run all over creation, unaware of all of the
evil that could harm me.

and now, i'm old. i have married friends and
friends that are getting married.

i grew up with friends that are having babies.

and it's so beautiful, but it makes me want to cry.

because i was a baby yesterday, and life is happening
too fast and i can't keep up with it.

i'm not ready for all of this. and although i realize
that just because these things are happening for my
friends, it doesn't mean i'll be partaking in them
any time soon.

but i just hate that i'm old enough to be married.

MARRIED?

BABIES?

i want to climb trees.

i want my only worry to be a scraped knee,
something mommy can make better so easily.

when did i grow up?

how did i get here?

coming to a close

I have always been the nerd that wants to go back to school.
I love summer, don't get me wrong, but by the end of it I'm
always a little bit antsy. This summer, however, I am more
than a little bit antsy. I am off the walls, going out of my
mind ready to be back on Trevecca's campus. This summer
has been awesome, and in many ways it was just what I needed,
but PLEASE, can this week just go by quickly so I can be back
where I belong?

Inevitably, I will regret this last plea about three-quarters into
this next semester. Will someone please remind me of this blog?
Thanks.

Today

I was verbally assaulted by a customer at work.
All because the alarm went off when she walked
out the door.
So she stormed (and by stormed, I mean a tornado occured
in Anthropologie tonight), back to the cash wrap,
threw her purchased clothing at me, and proceeded to yell
profanities and random things about not getting paid,
and her child in school, and something about Davidson
county that I had trouble deciefering through the explosion
that was about 500 F-bombs being dropped between just
about every word. And the whole time she was hitting her
shopping bag up against the counter over and over again and
pointing at random people and mainly just yelling at me.

Ummm... ma'am? I didn't do anything...

But come to find out she's had quite the stroke of bad luck
recently and she just had a mental breakdown.

Poor lady. The cop wanted me to press charges, but
I didn't. But really, nothing has ever happened to me that
required me to say, "No, officer, I don't feel right about pressing
charges."

So, needless to say, this has been a very odd night.

new style inspiration?

i think so!

of course, she's been around for quite some time.

but i've just fallen in love with her.

betsy johnson's got nothing on you anna piaggi!

if cereal were a human...

I would marry it.

Regardless of gender.

Yes, I would go gay for cereal.

Even if it meant getting
destroyed by God Himself.

Cereal is worth it.

I will now compose a beautiful poem for my love, cereal:

oh cereal
our love is so real
you make me feel
so full and satisfied
and if i ever die
i'll be burried
with you by my side
and that's where
we'll reside
for all eternity

body image

I just turned twenty in May. Over the past year, I have
noticed that my metabolism has slowed down significantly.
I can no longer eat everything in sight, yet suffer no
consequences whatsoever. So I started exercising regularly.
I had more energy, but I still hated looking in the mirror to
see the 7 pounds I've gained since college camping out on my
belly and thighs. As you can probably tell from my last post,
this has caused a great deal of frustration for me. I have
been trying to lose a few pounds, and instead I've gained one.
In the meantime, I have guy friends who are trying to lose five
pounds and lose ten. And that really is frustrating.

What is more frustrating, however, is the fact that I have allowed
myself to take the media's view of what a woman's body should
look like to heart. It's my fault really. I love fashion, and have
a subscription to almost every major American fashion magazine.
So I'm constantly looking at women who are 5'7" to 6 feet tall and
weigh as much (or little) as I do at 5'3". My bmi is perfectly healthy,
which means that those stick thin models are not. So why do I want
to look like them, exactly?

Kate Moss, you have done our world a great disservice. What happened
to models like Cindy Crawford? I don't think it's any coincidence that the
height of the super model was 15 years ago when women actually had a little
meat on their bones. Women could realistically aspire to look like Tyra Banks,
you know?

And what about Marilynn Monroe? She had curves that wouldn't quite!
She was considered to be the epitome of what a woman should look like.
And men seemed to like it. But now, I'm supposed to be able to fit into
jeans that say ZERO on the tag? What does that even mean? I'm not
supposed to exist? That isn't a size.

I was recently at an exhibit at the Frist where a few Greek statues were on
display. I noticed that all of the women had bellies. Pooches, if you will.
And pretty big thighs and hips. The men, however, were the ones that looked
muscular. Well, folks, if Aphrodite was the most beautiful woman in the world
and she had a pooch, I sure as heck don't see what's so wrong with mine! We're
always saying so and so "looks like a Greek god." Maybe you look more like one
than you think.

I'm tired of crying when I go to try on clothes because I don't fit into a specific
size, or I don't look like the girls in the magazines. Pop culture is polluting our brains.
We don't need to look like Jessica Alba, or Jessica Biel, or Kate Moss (who recently
developed a pooch, and I love it), or Beyonce, or anyone but ourselves. And why
would we want to look like any of those girls? They don't seem happy. I wouldn't
be either if I never ate. And I'm certainly not going to throw up to look that
way, either.

Ladies, put down the magazines and embrace the fat between your legs
and the pooch on your belly (which, by the way, produces estrogen, which
then helps us deliver babies and create life!) HELLO!

dear boys,

I just need you to know that being a girl is really hard.

I can't even fit into jeans that were too big for me three
months ago.

Meanwhile, you're eating three big macs and you haven't
gained a pound.

Cellulite has decided to set up camp on my rear, yet yours
is rock solid and you haven't worked out in months.

I look like a slob in sweats, and somehow you look even
better when you wear yours.

What the heck? This is just not fair. And I'm angry about it right now.

Thanks for listening.