Sorry mister, my rants are on fire.

Posted: November 29, 2010 in Uncategorized

These things have always had bad timing. I attract relationships precisely when I don’t feel like I need one, when I’m feeling good, and independent, and ambitious, and all that.

Then again, it makes sense. You’re more likely to attract people when you’re sending out such good energy, and when you’re so confident about yourself. I’ve been depressed before and nobody looked at me then (well, except for this one guy, and he’s a weirdo). The moment I started being happy, I started getting asked out like once a week (WTF was that all about?). Like there was something in the water…

And every single time I’m (happily) single, I jinx it by proclaiming to the entire universe that I don’t want a boyfriend- which is a sure sign that someone absolutely irresistible is about to step into the picture, and make a fool of me. It’s happened to me 1…2…3… no, 5  times. Life has played the same joke on me 5 times.

Anyway, I digress.

When you move to a new country, your old identity has to die completely before it can be reborn. You have to completely demolish old, inner structures in order to build a new one. It’s not very easy though. It’s not very easy to just completely destroy something you’ve been building for years. It’s not easy to demolish something that’s always been there. You have to change the way you think, the way you feel, and the way you look at people, sometimes overnight.

I think I’m still struggling with the last of those structures, and I’m going through yet another identity crisis.

That’s why it’s hard for me to feel settled about anything. I’m still going through so many changes. I’m like planet earth before life began, when it was having earthquakes, and volcanic erruptions every day. (Oh my god, was that not the geekiest metaphor ever?). Or a half-finished building, whose architect isn’t quite sure what the finished structure is going to look like, and is making it up as he goes along.

Anyway, I’m faced with another one of these decisions that have no wrong or right answer- the hardest kind.

And I feel like such a fuckin idiot. WAAAAAHHHHH!!


ANYWAY. Went to to calculate what my correct bra size should be. Maybe I have been wearing the wrong size all these years and maybe I could look better.

Anyway, my results:

Your bra size is 34. But no bra is needed if these measurements are correct.

Good god… it’s that bad. I don’t even need one! I don’t even have a cupsize!!


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