yesterday i decided that a black dress would be perfectly appropriate for medusa, and would in no way pose a danger of me being mistaken for an apple. to that end, and with an hour before the mall closed, i hit H&M looking for a certain black corset top that i thought i would never have ocasion to buy. it did not come in my size. i squeezed myself into the next size down (because that's what corsets do best), and then realizing that my capacity to breathe was severely limited, i decided to look around again. H&M can be a cold, cruel world to the chubby girl. the clothes start out really cool and tiny, then get slightly less cool and moderately less tiny, and then there is the "big is beautiful" section. and because the world has gone completely insane, they start stocking that section at a size twelve. but i found a top that's black and looks vaguely like a corset without all the poking wires and breathing impairment. then, i did what any self-respecting girl would do when faced with a body image crisis.
i went to target and hit the lingerie section. there really is something therapeutic about buying yourself pretty underwear. even if no one is ever going to see it, it's a way to be sweet to yourself and remind yourself that you can still be beautiful. somewhere in the DSM-IV there's a category for this kind of disorder, but i think it really is a viable coping mechanism on occasion. i also bought some socks that won't fall down into my boots, a pair of tights, a halloween t-shirt, and a pair of flannel jammie pants that are snuggly and warm and way, way too big. too big like i could smuggle a small child into this country while wearing these pants. sizes are weird, people, i don't understand.
the application deadline is fast approaching. remarkably fast. blindingly fast. today i will be writing four admissions essays (typed, double-spaced, 1" margins, times new roman 12 point font, as specified in the anally-retentive instructions), some of which i will probably post and/or parody here. i contacted two professors who will be glad to write me recommendations because thankfully they remember who i am. i will also be calling a dentist because my teeth are ridiculous. and my doctor, to discuss getting me off of paxil and onto something that doesn't kill my appetite and make me blow up like a macy's float. while he's at it, he can check me for hypothyroid disease because it'd be kind of sad if i was on meds for seretonin when i should be speeding up my glands.
i came to do two things--kick ass and chew bubble gum. beatpoetgrrl
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