blech.

Today, I hate having boobs. And Janeane Garofalo.

Sure, not being able to wear a even semi low cut shirt without glances is a pain, but more frustratingly, girls with bodies like mine perpetually look frumpy if we aren't careful. Most days, no matter what I put on, it hangs, baggy, shapeless--- my t-shirts are tented, top heavy, then hang lifeless. When I try to fix this by accentuating my waist, everything seems to balloon out, but most especially my breasts. They suddenly become the center of everything... and I can't stand that. I've always hated my breasts.

The reason I'm currently hating on Janeane is because she may have been a girl with a body like mine- except she had a cosmetic breast reduction before she started getting serious about her acting/comedy etc. She said she felt that if she went on stage herself, all 5'1" and C-D breasts, she just wouldn't get respected. I'm irritated because I respect her. And suddenly, a cosmetic reduction is starting to look like a good idea.

I'll shake it off and tomorrow it won't matter.

-5:31pm-

I feel shitty. I feel torn between this person that I 'am', and the person I feel I should be. I should spend my free day exploring this new city, no matter how little I know about it, or how dark it is outside. Instead, I just want to lie in bed and read my book. Why can't I just be comfortable with what I actually want? Why do I always feel like I need to compare to this -person- I feel I should be, and then justify my actual actions? Who is judging me? And why do I think it matters so much?