Cool Things Please Happen Today

I need a cool thing to happen today. All the things that are happening today are not cool. Or, maybe I have a bad attitude. Or, maybe I am stuck in a rut. Today is the kind of day I want to fast forward through. Not because it is hard but because it is boring. I guess being boring makes it hard. Because I am tired and I think I am getting my period and I would much rather be home eating Indian food and drinking wine and imagining myself as an adult being successful and busy but also incredibly fulfilled. But then I think. I am an adult. I saw a friend on social media talking about a play she directed at Harvard. I got really jealous. I want to direct a play at Harvard. I want to post an article about my directing job at Harvard and say something like "I'll take what he says about art for art's sake as a complement...ha ha ha." I didn't read the whole article but I guess she was too edgy for Harvard? I don't know. Anyway, it got a lot of comments. The last thing I posted on Facebook asked people to send me their bacon. Sometimes I think I tried to do too many things so I never was successful at one thing. Is that what people tell themselves when they aren't good at one thing? I like to send out stuff to people. I fantasize that on a boring day like this I will get an email that says my play is being produced and I am being paid thousands for it. Then I can post something coy on Facebook. I'll pretend not to care but I'll check the comments incessantly. People at school will be nicer to me and I'll be really humble. Then that show will parlay into another show and that will parlay into writing for TV. Then the TV company will ask me to move to Hollywood but I'll say no because I want to finish my PhD. And they will be shocked that someone so funny and talented is also so smart and would be willing to give up a TV career for academic pursuits. But I'll shrug it off as I usually do because I am so humble, you know. This is the thought that gets me through the day. This what I hope will happen to me today.

Do More

I have a list of things I need to do on Google calendar. Google calendar is how I organize my life. Sometimes I write myself a note on my hand but that is a really a short term thing. It will go into the calendar if it’s more than an errand I need to run that day. If it is a long term project then maybe I’ll write a post it note and stick it on my wall. I like to be able to visually see all the things I need to do. It is a reminder to keep moving forward. I have a lot I want to accomplish. And I think I will if I do all the things little by little. Sometimes I don’t feel like I do enough. I wonder how other people seem to get things done so effortlessly. Do they just concentrate on one thing? Am I trying to do too many things? It would be nice to be really good at something. I like when people compliment me. I don’t think I even have that many interests. I just want people to see me. Talk to me. Thank me. Sometimes I think about how if I stopped doing things nobody would care. Would they? I don’t think so. Maybe because I do the things no one wants to do. So maybe if I didn’t do those things they would have to do them and they would be sad or mad. And they probably wouldn’t do them again. And then I would do them. Because without them I feel pretty lonely. Sometimes I wonder if all my tasks is the reason I am still alone? I went on vacation once and the first few days I tried to do things, see things, be active. After day five I stopped doing things and I just watched TV. It was nice outside so I had to close the blinds. I watched TV for hours and hours and ate fast food. It was nice. I liked it. Sometimes if I am doing too many things I will drink too much one night and then call in sick the next morning. I feel bad. But I can’t work hungover and being hungover is kind of like being sick. Every few months I break and I have to reset myself. I feel a lot of guilt and shame that I can’t get it all done without breaking once in a while. But the guilt and shame motivate me so I guess they are there for a reason. When I have to delete Google tasks it makes me feel bad. So I usually move them around. I can always try to do them later. Maybe later. Yes, later. Right now I have too much to do. But, if I really tried, I think I could always do more.  

Hair Cut

I cut my hair today. I did it myself in the mirror with a pair of kitchen scissors. I think the scissors are designed for cutting plastic bags open. Or maybe for cutting meat? I’m not really sure what kitchen scissors are used for but I generally use them for cutting paper…and hair. My hair was really long and when I put it in a bun it felt really heavy. It was too hot to wear down. It was itchy. It made my head sweat which gave me pimples on my neck. The bun was hard and I couldn’t lay down with it in. So I had to take it out. Then put it back in. The take it down again. If I put the bun on the top of my head it didn’t hurt as much. But people looked at me strange. But my hair was pretty. That’s the only thing that made me think twice about cutting my hair. I don’t know if I have any other physical qualities that are unique. Real show stoppers. At least, not like my hair. When I was younger my dad wouldn’t let me cut it. It was long and red and I guess he liked that. I wanted to make my dad happy. But I don’t care about making him happy anymore. I had a lot of split ends. You get split ends when you don’t take care of your hair. At least that’s what people who cut hair say. So I would always cut my hair myself. I hate when people lecture me. My head feels lighter now. And I don’t have to worry about putting it in a bun. I think it looks good. I hope it grows back. 

Bailey

Last night I dreamed of my friend Bailey. We met in high school. He was kind of nerdy and so I was I. But like cool nerdy. He had long hair and played music. He had an above ground pool in his backyard. We wrestled in it once and he got a boner. He never said anything about it and neither did I. In my dream I was driving to his house. We were going to prom together. My mom and sister were also in the car. I’m not sure why. The car we drove was pretty dumpy. The breaks didn’t work so I had to spin the car around to make it stop. I almost crashed a couple times. When I got to his house I realized I wasn’t dressed for the prom. I thought he would find that insulting but he didn’t care. I asked him if he could drive me to my dad’s house so I could put on my dress. I said it was pretty. I said it would be worth his while. At my dad’s house I slept in a coffin. My dad said I needed to clean out my coffin because there were bugs in it. They had all circled around an old jigger I guess I left in there. Jiggers are used for measuring liquor. I work at a bar so I know that. Not because I drink too much or anything. After I took out  the jigger all the bugs left. After that we went to the prom and I think I ditched him. When I woke up I googled my old friend and saw that his dad died a year ago. It made me sad. But then I thought how my mom was dead also and figured that these things happen. It’s not a big deal. It’s not like we’re young anymore.

Ashes

I can never find good movies on Netflix. I guess I watch too much tv because when it takes me to the section of recently watched there is always a lot of stuff in it. So I guess maybe the problem is that I can’t find anything new to watch. Sometimes I look for actors I like and then I find movies that way. That’s a good way to find movies. Lots of times the movies I like only have one or two stars. I guess other Netflix users don’t like the things I like. That’s okay. I feel like the Netflix rating system is rigged anyway. I recently watched a movie where some fat lady got skinny and then carried around her burnt up skin in a vial around her neck. It wasn’t as creepy as it sounds. But the whole time I was thinking…that’s not a very big vial. I mean, for a whole bunch of loose skin. I watch a lot of weight loss shows so I feel pretty confident about my assessment. Then at the end of the movie some other lady spread her dead husband’s ashes in the ocean. They made it funny and the dead husband was an asshole but I guess she put his ashes in her friend’s Tupperware and the friend was kind of mad because it was part of a set. But when my mom died the funeral home put her ashes in a box for us. It was a shitty box because we were broke and inside the box was a plastic bag and when my sister and I spread her ashes we had to put them in something more aesthetically pleasing but we didn’t think about it until the last minute so we had to put them in a birthday gift bag we found in my sister’s car. And we transferred the ashes into the gift bag in the parking lot and some of them flew onto the sidewalk. So I guess a little piece of my mom is still there. But in the movie she put them in a Tupperware container which means that either she transferred her husband’s ashes from one shitty box to another or the funeral home just handed her a bunch of ashes. Like with their hands. Into her hands. I thought about it a lot. And then I wondered what I’d like to happen to me when I die. I feel like it would be silly to bury me in a box that will eventually just have some building over it or something. And I don’t think I am going to have any kids to visit my grave or anything. The thought of burning sounds pretty awful and I think they mix you up with other people. I think I’d like to decompose in the woods and just be brought back into the cycle of life. But probably a hiker would find me and they’d think I was murdered and then there would be an investigation into my murder and eventually someone would go to jail for dumping me in the woods. So I guess I’ll take being burned. And then hope I have someone who wants to spread my ashes.

Adulthood

Adulthood isn’t really what I thought it would be. I mean, when I was younger I thought by twenty I would be married with kids. When I was twenty I thought by thirty I would have a great job and be a success. I’m thirty-five now and I don’t have any expectations for my forties. I hope that I have some job. I hope that maybe I’m in a relationship. I don’t want kids anymore and I don’t plan on being too successful. Do people retire in their sixties? Or seventies? How am I supposed to save up enough money to retire? I remember when I was young and my mom used to stay out all night and when she got home she would say “I never had a childhood.” I was mad at her. I didn’t choose to be born. She must have chosen that, right? I thought she should take care of me. But I sort of get it now. Stuff just happens and then you make the best of it. Like, I think about how my dad worked at 7-11 and the tobacco shop and I used to think he was so much more qualified than that. He was an adult. These jobs were for kids. But I guess he wasn’t. He was just some forty-year old dude who never got his shit together. I see a lot of those dudes around and I hope I don’t end up with one. But, at the same time, I sort of relate to them. And some of them are nice. 

Forgot Your Name

When I was younger I worked with a boy who wasn’t very nice. He was short and scruffy and good looking but mean and awkward. We had chemistry. We fought a lot but when people were around us they said it was sexy. One time when we were working together he was singing really loud. It annoyed me. I was trying to count money. It was late and I was tired and I just wanted to go home. I had been nice to people all day. I was covered in beer and booze and all kinds of sticky things. I just wanted to count my money. I wanted it to be quiet. But he kept singing. So I told him to shut up. He got mad. He called me names. He told me I was an unhappy person. He said I wanted to make other people unhappy too. He said other things I don’t remember. They made me sad. I was tired and weak and I started to cry. I don’t like to cry in front of people. I like to be strong. He made me cry in front of everyone. The next day he brought me flowers to apologize. I said I did not accept his apology but secretly I was flattered. Later, I got lonely and drunk and tried to kiss him. He said we would be together some day but not today. It wasn’t our time yet. I asked him when it would be our time. He said he didn’t know. Sometimes I think about him. Us together, fighting a lot. And it makes me happy. The only thing is, I forgot his name. 

The Boardwalk

I used to babysit my sister when I was younger. Like, real young. Since she was a baby. We are five years apart. When she got old enough her and I would venture outside during the summer. Before that we had to stay inside or people would know. That we were alone. When I was twelve or so we went to the Boardwalk. We had summer passes because our mom worked there. We didn’t see our mom everyday but we saw her sometimes on the weekends and she would buy us ice cream and croissants. That’s how I got fat I think. But she had some mothering to make up for so she bought me food. My sister got clothes. To this day I love food. And my sister has way too many clothes. I know because I did her laundry once. Our favorite ride was the pirate ship. It was like a big swing. It didn’t go upside down. Which was good because I was scared of going upside down. It was also next to the food court, which was convenient. Once we got stuck on it and made up songs. Pirate ship songs. When I got older I worked at the candy store on the Boardwalk. My boss was a creep and hit on all the young girls. But not me. My sister would go to the Boardwalk at night with her friends and drink and go on rides when they were closed. She was more adventurous than I was. I was the good girl. When she was twenty eight she had a stroke and I stayed with her in the hospital for three weeks. I dumped her poo out of the bed pan and gagged as she laughed. We made up songs about the nurses and ate Taco Bell. Looking back, it was kind of fun. 

Demon

Inside my body is a demon. The demon makes me want to drink a lot. It says…you’ll feel really good once you drink a whole bunch. It says that when I drink a whole bunch I am really smart and funny and kind of sexy. Mostly, it just makes all my anxiety go away. I like it. So I stay away from my demon. I try to control it. But usually the demon gets what it wants. And I feel good for a little bit. And then I order food. Lots of food. And I eat it all. And I wake up and I want to die. I wonder why I can’t stop myself. I wonder why I’m not like other people. I get mad about the money I spent. The money I work so hard to save. The money I could buy something nice with that goes to pizza and booze instead. I wonder what it’s like to wake up feeling good. To wake up and go to the gym. To have goals and ambition. To wake up and be loved. I fight the sadness. I fight the demon. But sometimes I get tired. And I wonder why no one else seems tired too. So I drink. And for a little while, I feel better. 

Alysia

My best friend in grade school’s name was Alysia. We met on the asphalt. No one would play with us so we decided to play with each other. On the metal dragon. It was fun to have a friend. Alysia had a mom and a dad. Her mom didn’t work which meant she made dinners for her family every night. Her mom was really fat and her dad was really skinny. I used to wonder what they looked like having sex. Alysia’s mom liked to eat baked potatoes with non-fat cheese, which I had never had before but I thought it was really cool. Alysia’s dad drove a truck so he was gone a lot. I thought truck drivers were poor but Alysia’s family owned a big house so I figured they weren’t. Sometimes when kids were mean to me at school I would go to Alysia’s house and sit with her mom. I would be all casual like “I was just in the neighborhood” but of course it was during the school day so I figure her mom must have known something was wrong. I had so many absences I almost didn’t graduate. But I’m pretty sure no one wants to hold back a kid in middle school, so I did. Once Alysia was leaving the house and her mom made her fix her socks. They weren’t rolled up neatly. Alysia always looked neat. Her hair was long and she wasn’t allowed to cut it. I think she developed an eating disorder later. In high school her mom called me a bad influence as she laughed over her dinner. It made me feel bad. Alysia and I drifted apart but I still see her on Facebook. She married well and smiles big. Her bones are still too big for her body and she still looks like she doesn’t eat. But she looks perfect and happy and I wonder if she is. And if she wanted to, if she would be allowed to cut her hair. 

Grandpa

I knew two things about my grandpa: he was part Native American and he was an alcoholic. He was also a gambler too but I think that’s part of being an alcoholic. He liked everything to excess. He had an animal’s head in his living room and I used to stare at it. I don’t remember what it was. Oh wait, it was a cheetah. Or cougar? It was a white cat and I felt so bad for it. But my grandpa was part Cherokee and he said the animal was from his mom. He was proud of being Cherokee. He said that’s why he had a flat butt and no hair. His couches were leather and when I slept on them I would wake up stuck with sweat. He had a slot machine in his living room and lots of quarters. His wife got hurt a lot. She broke her neck once. But she didn’t die. She took a lot of pills. She was my mom’s age. My mom and her used to call each other sisters. I think that’s kind of weird. I visited him at work once. He had a big office and I had to go up an elevator to get to it. Before I got to the office there was a table with a bunch of flowers on it. I could tell he was important. He introduced me to a man in the hallway and they laughed and he patted the man on the back. He used to drink scotch on ice and when my mom was with him she would do the same. He lived in Oklahoma and said it was okay to drive drunk there. He used to fall asleep on the couch with the TV on. My mom would tell me to leave him there. When his wife died he got really sad. He would call my mom crying. She would go visit him but I wasn’t allowed to. He spent a lot of time in the casinos. They knew him well and would buy his meals. He said he wanted to die and a few months later he did. 

Mean to Me

Some guy was mean to me today. I was walking my dogs and it made some guy mad. He told me to “control my dogs.” One of them was laying down. He was really angry. He had a salad in his hand and it looked like he was in a hurry to get back to work. I wondered where he worked. He seemed to be really important. I hope he worked someplace shitty where his boss is mean to him. But probably not. He probably was important. I got kind of flustered and I said that I had a right to walk my dogs wherever I wanted. He said one of them touched him. He didn’t like when dogs touched him I guess. I like when dogs touch me. But I guess that’s a personal preference. I said something else to him. I think he was surprised I talked back to him. But, I wanted to do better. I wanted to say something witty. I wanted to make fun of him and make him feel small like he did to me. I wanted to sound really smart and talk about white privilege but end by calling him a dick or something. Mix some smarts with some street. Just so he knew I had range. I could do both. But I was caught off guard. I was thinking of other things. My shoulders hurt today so I was thinking about that. I wondered if I slept wrong or I was stressed out or maybe I’m dehydrated. I thought about what I wanted to make for lunch and how I bought a bunch of fresh vegetables but all I want to eat is the frozen fish sticks. I thought about my sister and how she hates her life and what I could do to make it better. I thought about my belly and whether I look like I’ve had kids even though I haven’t. I thought about my dogs and I wondered why one of them was already laying down. Was she hot? Or sick? Or just tired? Or maybe just lazy. I wondered if there was anything good on tv I could watch while eating my lunch. I like to have things to look forward to. It makes getting through the day a lot easier. I thought about my nails and how I did a good job painting them. I wondered how long until they started chipping and whether or not I could start being the type of person who re-paints them when they look bad. Then the guy yelled at me and I got flustered. And for the rest of the walk, I thought about him. 

The Bus

When I lived in Baltimore there was a woman on the bus with her two kids. She wasn’t looking at them. One was older and one was a baby. When the baby would cry the older boy would hit the baby. That made the baby cry even more. I stared at them. I wondered why she wouldn’t hold the baby. I wondered what had happened to the older boy. If he had to watch the baby all the time. I thought about the time I threw a door knob at my sister. And how we were always alone. The woman looked at me and then told her boys not to worry about the woman staring at them. She said something mean about me like I couldn’t hear her. I got really mad. I told her I don’t like to see children being hurt. I told her that her son didn’t know how to take care of a baby. I told her that kids don’t know how to be parents. I told her to stop talking to her friend. I told her that if she didn’t want her kids she shouldn’t have had them. I screamed at her. I started shaking. People looked at me. She told me if I didn’t want to see kids get hurt I shouldn’t take the bus. I didn’t know what to say. A full minute later I said the next time I would call the police. She rolled her eyes at me and grabbed her child. She sang a song to her baby. I didn’t look at them again. 

Asian Chicken Salad

At one point my life was really hard. I made rice and canned greened beans and ate that every day. Sometimes I would mix in ground beef. It made it greasy and yummy. I would try and save the ground beef for the rest of the week but it was too hard to wait. Mixed with salt it tasted like a real meal. One that I would choose to eat. If I wasn’t so poor. I’m not poor anymore. I don’t walk around wondering where I could live if I lost my apartment. I have friends now. I am educated. I have prospects. I worked a lot this week so I spent the day shopping. First I looked in a used furniture store. It was a fancy used store. A vintage store. They paint their used furniture so that they can charge more for it. I like how the paint looks so I don’t feel bad paying more. But I had bed bugs once so I am still a little uneasy about it. My desk chair hurts so I need another one. I saw lots of good things but my rule is I only buy what I can’t live without. And what I can carry up my stairs. I have friends now. They would help me carry stuff but I don’t like to ask. So I don’t buy much. I walk to the supermarket and I buy lots of vegetables. Fresh ones. Fresh ones are more expensive but I tell myself I have to put my health first. I stress out a lot. I am overweight. My sister had a stroke. I have to put my health first. I am important too. So I buy the fresh vegetables and some frozen. Because. They last longer. And they’re cheaper. And I stress out when I see food going bad. I think about how I can make a big meal with all the food about to expire. Sometimes I make it but something has already expired and poisons the whole batch. I get really mad at myself. I think about it a lot. It is too stressful. So I need to find the right balance of fresh and frozen. Fresh vegetables crunch though. Like French fries. Maybe that’s why rich people are skinnier. People need crunch. I’m working on it. I treat myself to some frozen appetizers and pre-made Asian salad. No chicken. I worry about the chickens. Where are they kept? Are they sad? So I don’t eat the chicken. I can buy the substitute. I got home tonight and treated myself to a yummy meal. I bought nice wine. I won’t put ice in it like my mom did. So I freeze it instead. I made my frozen appetizers and my Asian salad and I watched some tv. I painted my nails and I felt rich. And I only worried about money a little. But I thought about how much I like greasy ground beef the whole time.

Picture Day

I used to raise my eyebrows when I smiled. It was involuntary. I thought it made my face bigger. Brighter. Happier looking. On picture day I borrowed a blue shirt from my friend. I didn’t have a lot of nice clothes. She didn’t either really but I liked the shirt. I put my hair in two buns. I thought I looked cute. Or at least fun. Which was my thing…looking fun. When my number was called I sat down in the chair. I picked my background. A starburst, I think. The photographer told me to smile and I did. A big one. A fun one. He took my picture and then told me to put my eyebrows down. I tried again. He said they were still raised. So I tried again. He came over and put his hand on my face and pushed them down. Then he went back to his camera and tried to take the picture again. By now I was crying. The people behind me looked worried. The photographer gave up. I went to a corner and let myself sob. I didn’t want anyone to know I didn’t know how to smile correctly. So I wiped my tears and went to class. I picked up the pictures a week later but never looked at them. I hid the pictures from my mom. It might have been in the yearbook but I didn’t buy one. A year later I learned how to smile with my eyebrows down. So I drove by the photographers store and threw eggs at it. 

Heaven

I saw this 20/20 episode about heaven and it really scared me. What do you think happens when you die? All these people said they had been to heaven but they all had different versions of it. Most mentioned a white light, but some said they went down a hallway and some said they walked through a field and one said that she was walking up a huge staircase and there were all these cats and dogs coming down the stairs and they were really happy. And she said she would pull their tails and it would make them even happier. What kind of person goes around pulling the tails of cats? And if you are walking up to the gates of heaven, why are you fucking with a bunch of cats? I don’t think that’s the kind of stuff that gets you into heaven. Some people say that what these people are experiencing is their brain dying. I’m scared to die. I haven’t been the best person either. And do you think that these angels watch you when you masturbate? I don’t want to have to watch people masturbate. Sometimes I think about that as I am masturbating. I guess they don’t care, but still. And what if God is just like a bad boss? You know, you have to sort of do whatever he wants and laugh at his dumb jokes, and you know that when there is a big meeting coming up he is going to get hyper critical and start micromanaging you. And you know you could do the job better than him, but you can’t say anything because he’s super sensitive. Man, I hope it’s a good place. Better than here at least.

First Kiss

My dad didn’t have any money when I was growing up. Or now. Or ever. But he wanted to live in a house. So, he rented. At first my sister and I shared a room and my dad lived in the second bedroom. Later, my dad moved into the room with us and we got a roommate. The roommate was a man and he had a son named Colin. Colin and I would build forts with sleeping bags and blankets. We would stay in the fort and tell each other stories. His dad must have been poor also. I guess. Colin’s dad moved out and one day Colin showed up at my school. I was mean to him because he knew me in a different way than other kids did. So I told him to stay away from me. And he did. In high school we became friends. I don’t know how. I was popular then and nice to people so it seemed reasonable I would have been nice to him. He was a “dirt” which meant he hung out on the front lawn of the school. I floated between the dirts and the quaddies, the hippies and the jocks. We went to prom together when I was a fifteen and he told me he liked me. I was scared and I told him I just wanted to be friends. I liked Sam and Sam liked Alysia so eventually Sam told me not to come around anymore and Colin was my shoulder to cry on. Colin and I eventually held hands but I didn’t know how to kiss and I knew he did so I was scared. One day he came over after work and laid on top of me. I told him I had just eaten meatloaf so we couldn’t kiss today. A few days later he told me that I needed to let him kiss me or else we could never be together. I closed my eyes and put my lips together. He kissed them quickly. I felt like I was going to throw up. He said it was a start and ran out of the car. I knew what we had done was not real kissing. He dumped me a few days later. 

Dogs

I have two dogs. They are pretty adorable. Not like ooosty cutesy adorable. They are big dogs. Man-sized dogs. I mean, if I wanted to I could fight those dogs. But I don’t. I love them. When I walk down the street people stare at me. I mean, here’s me. A petite, baby-faced, young woman with these really big, aggressive looking dogs. I feel like it’s probably a turn on. For guys. Girls too. It’s unexpected. And I own it. I give a sly smile and keep walking. But my dogs are also super friendly. So if someone stops my dogs will go up to them and wag their tails. They’ll lick their legs. Try and kiss their mouths. And people will be so surprised that these scary looking dogs are so friendly. Then they’ll look at me. And I know what they’re thinking. They want it. I’m kind of a dog park celebrity. It’s not only that my dogs are cute and huge…which they are. I believe I’ve said. But they are so happy. Infectiously happy. So people think I take care of my dogs. Which I do of course. I make their food actually. It’s pretty expensive and it takes a lot of time. But it’s worth it. I sprinkle in some vitamins. And mix in cod liver oil. I have a few dog beds. I like one in each room. But they usually sleep on the couches or on my bed. Sometimes I have to sleep on the floor if I get to bed after them. If I try to move them they look at me. Kind of a confused and shocked look. I had a bad childhood so I just let them sleep. Sometimes I take their pictures as they sleep. Then I look at the picture as I’m looking at them sleeping. They make me happy. They’re the only reason people talk to me. I don’t know what I’d do without my dogs.

Skinny

If I were skinnier. Believe me. Things would be different. I don’t try very hard to put myself together now. If I’m going to work I might put on some makeup. Mostly because when I need to fake sick I can just take it off. I don’t know if I should find it insulting that people think my natural face looks like a sick person’s face. But I don’t worry about it. Because I fake sick a lot. I can’t fit into the clothes I want to buy. I’m not sure if I have a sense of style anymore. If something fits I buy it. When I catch myself in a reflecting door I get upset. It’s obvious that I don’t try very hard. I like my hair. It’s really shiny and if I use the right shampoo it is quite manageable. I cut it once. Real short. I looked like a lesbian. Which I guess was kind of nice because I didn’t feel like men were judging me anymore. It was like they knew that I wasn’t for them so they just didn’t see me. If they think I’m for them and I don’t measure up then they’ll tell me. Once a guy in a truck rolled down his window and told me to “lose some weight.” Or maybe he called me a fatass? I don’t remember exactly but it made me cry. I thought I looked nice that day. I hate to have my bubble busted. So I don’t try anymore. I have a nice face. I know it’s pretty. A friend told me once he’d have sex with me if I lost weight because I have such a pretty face. He was very handsome. I was flattered. And hurt. But I’d definitely buy nice things. If I was skinnier.