Dodie has me thinking, today. I’ve had to catch myself in conversation with Monroe because I’m not paying her 100% of my attention. Bad me! Let me explain. In Dodie’s book “Secrets for the Mad…”, she describes how little she feels during her outings with her friends and how it affected how she absorbed the experiences. At one point in time, I could relate to that. Around 2016, I was just kind of going through the motions but, now, I can’t imagine not enjoying a day with my friends! I’m proud of myself for jumping through whatever hoops I had to get through to stand on the ground I’m currently on.
I was also just thinking about how much I used to hate my body and how careful I used to be about what I was going to wear. I blame my mom’s side of the family and their above average cup-sized genes. I think I’ll always remember a specific moment in high school when a group of female classmates asked me how I “got my boobs so big” and when I literally just said it was genetics, they started whispering to each other while flashing me some wicked side eye. I’m guessing from some of the comments they said, they assumed I was doing something to myself and it always made me feel so helpless that I couldn’t do anything to make myself smaller. That is, until I bought a chest binder for a Levi Ackerman cosplay and started wearing it along with my sweaters. Boom, I’d be almost A-cup flat. Granted, I had a uni-boob going on but, at the time, I’d rather that than two C’s. A handful of years later and now I’ve accepted how I look and own more form-fitting clothes. I don’t even know where the chest binder is, to be honest. Monroe even speculated that I might be in D-cup territory and the only reason I can find to hate that is that I enjoy running but it can be painful without the right support. So, I don’t completely hate myself at this point. That’s a goal kids these days shoot for, right?
On the topic of changing, I’m also proud of the “I don’t give a fuck” mentality growing deep inside me. Don’t be fooled, I still have certain people whose opinions I value. I’m slowly coming around to being able to wear whatever I want outside and be able ignore the stares of people who assume I will shamefully go change. But, you know what happens when you assume? You make an ass out of you and me. An ex told me that once, ha ha! The current problem I’m running into is that when I really get into the “IDGAF” vibe, I can mentally turn into a bitch and I try to avoid that as much as possible. An example would be me, 2 hours ago, angrily searching for a cheap journal and pens at the bookstore so I could write all these feelings down and type them up later (which im doing now). I was just feeling like a badass at the time because I was wearing a bit of a risque outfit and I was trying to push the IDGAF mood as hard as I could. I ended up pushing it too far and just became bitchy thinking I was “so cool” for not caring so I ran around the bookstore trying to find a dang journal. It was all just a ego trip and I just need to stop ha ha!
I like to look back at all the changing I’ve done. It all makes me proud that I’ve come so far.