So when Brooke came to visit I called dibs on whatever magazines she bought for the plane ride over to Paris. Which happen to be Glamour and Cosmo. Confining myself to my room over the weekend to tackle projects with looming deadlines, they were my only source of procrastination since I have no t.v. or internet in my room and I was out of books to read.
I devoured them.
And then weird things started happening, or rather, strange thoughts started to pop in my head. Like when I went to get dressed, I changed clothes three times because what if what I had one was one of those things in my closet that could make me look chunky? Or maybe I WAS stuck in a rut and not experimenting with color enough preventing me from being a “fun” and “fearless” female.
When I finally got myself presentable and outside I couldn’t help but judge what everyone was wearing. Was it a Do or a Don’t? Was it Sexy or was it Skanky? Steep or cheap?
And when I went to put food in my mouth I wondered what kind of fat was in what I was eating. Was it monosaturated fat (a definite DO!). Or saturated or trans fat (A definite DON’T!). Or maybe this was one of those times where I should be “free to be me” and indulge myself.
And then I started to want a boyfriend so I could keep him, ditch him, impress him, delight him, tantalize him, satisfy him, understand him, not cheat on him, know him, blow him, stroke him, poke him.
You get my drift.
Someone send me a book. Stat.
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