“Leave your body at the door.”

I’ve actually been pretty o.k. in spite of things. 

I managed to set aside time to melt down.

After kung fu. But still.

Sifu discovered me curled up behind the pile of cinder blocks and was kind enough to let me hide in the closet so the others wouldn’t see me. When they all left I came out and we just talked about things, and I feel better now. Stuff had just been building up. I guess I hadn’t talked about it here because I thought it was stuff that didn’t actually bother me.

Like the way people treat me at work? I mean, I suppose my mentality is a bit atypical in terms of teenage girls.

For example, I often wonder (and seriously) how I would look with dreadlocks.

I’ve also named all of my piercings, but don’t concern yourself with what the names might be, because I won’t tell you.

And sometimes, when I brush my teeth, I really lather up the toothpaste so I’m foaming at the mouth and then pose in front of the mirror, because sometimes (but not often) I wonder (and seriously) how hilarious I’d look if I had rabies, since, with all those wild animals we feed, you never know, and I want to make sure if I have rabies, I’m going to make it look good.

But these aren’t things I go around TELLING people, or expressing through other means, in fact, if you saw me at work, you’d probably assume I was catholic or even remotely religious.

I try and talk to my coworkers, I’d like to know them and have nice bonds with them since, sadly, I probably spend more time around them than I do with my own family anymore. But back to a few paragraphs ago, lately, they really have been treating me like I was just recently released from prison, and I was in prison because I ate a baby. And by that I mean, they look at me like I’m crazy. All the time! Whenever I talk. About anything. I can talk about anything, I can make change, curl ribbons, and they will look at me like I’m scum of the earth. Maybe my people reading skills just aren’t up to par? It certainly isn’t welcoming.

Gahhh whatever. Other things that have sucked that aren’t related to work include getting ripped off at the gas station, feeling sick, a zit on my forehead so big you could see it if you were floating around in space, and minimal interaction with the people I actually like. Most of it has been work, though. If I were to make a pie chart, the work segment would make a pacman.

Pie sounds awfully good. I don’t think we have any, though. I can’t waver now anyway, I’m down to 151 lbs when I checked this morning. That is one(1) pound overweight, and my BMI is one tenth (.1) over what it should be, maximum. As far as long term goals go, I still need to drop 26 if I want to be back to my old, non medicated self. What a wonderful world.

I had today off.

I picked up my check.

I’ve been feeling like crap.

Today, I’m celebrating the fact that I’m acting like a typical 18 year old girl.

By writing a post about shopping. Oh my god? I never thought it would happen.

Here we go.

Clothes of course. Girl clothes. Not boy clothes that I wear normally. And some black sunglasses, which I had wanted so I didn’t have to wear my outrageous pink ones in the middle of winter. Somehow the sun seems ten times brighter while driving in the winter. Now I will feel foolish in style.

Onto the photo worthy items: jewelry and shoes.

I don’t think about jewelry ever, really. I don’t own very many earrings, save for the swirly one and the ring in my cartilage that I wear everyday, and I can’t remember the last time I bought jewelry for my navel. Anyway, we’ve had this glass jewelry at work, and ever since we got it in, I’ve been eyeing some of it. So after like, a month and a half, I decided, you know, these are really nice, and we don’t have duplicates, and I’ll probably be bummed when someone else buys them. So I will. The end.

And the shoes. These are like, amazing shoe fetish shoes that I didn’t need at all but they were so bitchin’ (and also the last pair in…well…the whole store) I thought I should have them for…the future or something. If anything else, they’ll make handsome paper weights.

Ha. Those may or may not be my legs. They are actually, I cropped it as much as I could so you would still get the effect of the bitchin’-ness of the shoes without having to actually see my legs.

So today is good thus far. Time to go to the gym and restore my supply of firming cream via the health food store.

You know that guy from M. Night’s “Lady in the Water” who only lifted weights with one arm and had a freakishly large bicep (just one) while his other arm was normal size? The prophet guy. Right? Right.

We have a problem. I think my one ass cheek is visually bigger than the other. I’m hoping my body is just shifting weight or something because I’m always consistent with my sets at the gym and there is NO REASON (NO. REASON. NOdjhgfvir3bnm) why my right ass cheek should be bigger than my left ass cheek. Joey pulled out a ruler and was trying to measure but came to the conclusion that we may need a level and a protractor to determine this. And possibly a T-square. But hopefully not a compass.

If it continues to stay like that, and I don’t develop awesome powers, I’m going to be pissed.

Of course, if I had a choice, I’d chose having regular size ass cheeks over being a prophet.

…Besides that, everything is looking A+ good on the sternum front.

I DID get my dermal anchors today (what?) so my entire chest smells like surgical scrub and lubricant. My entire chest also looks like someone may have drop kicked it. Also also, my entire chest feels like someone stabbed it. Which, I guess they did. I had two dermals done, and each piece required two(2) separate piercings into my skin, which was already scarred over from latter mentioned failed surface bar. That is four(4) piercings I endured today. Sweet.

I DID grab the medical table for dear life.

It DID hurt. Maybe three times as much, because it was a longer process thanks to the scar tissue that I wish you saw involved all kinds of pressure and pinching that had to occur twice. If I had been getting one anchor in skin that wasn’t scarred, it would have been a breeze, and keep in mind I’m a real wimp.

I WAS freezing and self-conscious laying around topless. I’m perfectly comfortable around the guy who performed on me since I know him pretty well.

“Hey, Jeremiah, I like that Jesus hologram you have there. On the wall. Is that new? That’s pretty cool. If you nod your head while laying here, it looks like he’s dancing.”
“Hey, thanks!”

The weirdness came when the regulars who hang around and other employees I don’t know as well walk in like “Oh hey, what’s up?” and you KNOW they’re staring at your breasts and you can’t do anything but come to terms with being unladylike. I had no choice but to turn on my charm.

“Oh, you know. Things. Being pierced. Ouch! God! Yeah, things. Kind of cold.”
“I see that.”
“Yes, it’s rather nipply in here. A ha ha…OUCH! Hahaha, oh, I make myself laugh…”

…and I figure if they don’t leave after that lame crack then they deserve to gape at my boobs.

More later as it heals, I guess.