My brother's real serious with this girl he's seeing 'cause she's coming to visit my parents later on this week. I should be here to welcome her too, but my hair's a mess and ugh, I just passed by the mirror and I look so horrible. My face is covered in blackheads that OTC stuff won't clear up, and I KNOW I'll be bigger than her, probably three times as big. No, let's be realistic, only twice as big. I just look so gross! I look like someone's "before" picture! Is it what I'm wearing? Let's see, the shirt is a man's 2x and the pants are a baggy woman's 1x. I can't wear this outfit ever again. I haven't worn jeans in a while. It's just that I don't want to start itching. If I get a second call back on Tuesday to come back to Meridian I'll stay for her visit. If not, I won't come. I don't want her sizing up my mom and me and be like, "well, like mother, like daughter"...
My dad just said to me I have to work. Either he thinks I'm normal or he's looking beyond my mental illness and sees me as handicapable, not handicapped. I'm not limiting myself. I'm just exercising caution. I don't want to walk into something I'm going to quit two months later. My illness makes me do that. I just throw up my hands and be like, "f***! why am I doing this? Later!" I'm like that when it comes to school, too. When the professor's acting mad evil and giving us tons of homework, I'm just like, "what's your problem!" "Screw you! Screw this whole establishment!" You're going to have a kid just so they can grow up to enter the rat race? That's rather STUPID! Please. I'm not racing anybody. I wasn't born to be a pit bull in five inch heels with a short haircut. I don't wear heels. I may dress feminine sometimes, but I act like a boy when I do. I always hate the women on the Today Show 'cause they always have to wear the short pencil skirts with the five-inch heels. Is that how career women are supposed to dress? I dress like a teenager, with my pant legs on the ground covering my shoes. I think it's cool. I get tips from Alloy and VS. Some of the tips I can afford to pull off. The baggy cargo pants I can pull off. The below waist career pants and XS-tee shirts I cant. I take from their catalogs and put together my own style, something that will fit me. But anyway, the rat race? That is so not me. I've BEEN THERE, DONE THAT. I've been up at the start of rush hour in New York, pounding the pavement like everybody else. That kind of life doesn't suit me. Look, mom and dad, you didn't give birth to me just so I could grow up to do that. I refuse to. If I got a job, it would be working nights so in the morning, while everyone is climbing that ladder furiously, I'd be just heading off to bed. If I had a kid I'd make sure that she wouldn't have to work by the sweat of her brow to earn a living. But these words I'm typing haven't earned me a cent yet, so my legs stay closed. Rat race? I've had it with life. It's too hard. I'm just going to continue to do what comes natural.
1 comment on rat race girl? Two-cents girl.
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You never know, though, you might find and get a job someday that you really do like and won't want to quit. That's why it's always a good idea to keep trying.