You know you’re about to be hurt when
someone starts the sentence “No offense, but
Real Talk With Sara
RSSTroy Davis was murdered tonight.
Double Standard
It is fine to tell skinny people to “Eat a sandwich!”
It is not fine to tell fat people to “Put down the cheetos!”
Those days
As a human being you are allotted at least one of “Those days.”
It does not matter what god, consciousness, or sentient airborne pasta that you worship, it is guaranteed across all of those service plans.
It will start with your alarm clock not going off ( maybe the power went out in the middle of the night, maybe you woke up long enough to turn it off but not enough to remember this action, maybe you just forgot to set one in the first place )
Next, you will get shampoo in your eyes, or you will drop the shampoo bottle on your foot ( or cut your legs/armpits/ladybits/manbits/face while shaving )
You will realize you forgot to bring your towel into the bathroom with you
You will be out of milk and/or eggs
You will also be out of matching socks or underwear
You are already running late but now you have to change into pants that hide your mismatched socks
The car will need gas
Your card will not work at the pump ( and a line will await you inside because some guy is trying to buy 5 different lottery tickets from the money he won with another 3)
You will pass your boss on the way in and get “the look.”
It is about this time you text your sweetie poo for some words of encouragement ( or maybe you’ll have the sinking realization that you have no sweetie poo, or lost said sweetie poo thanks to a timing judgement at a cocktail party 3 weeks ago )
Your phone will now have 1 bar of battery
You will arrive at work where everyone else is giving you the “Case of the Mondays” speech from Office Space ( it doesn’t fucking matter it’s not Monday, and YES they WILL change the day of the week accordingly because they think they are clever )
Your sweetie poo or perhaps a perspective day will now start a string of text messages that shallowly brightens your day until realizing your phone is now about to die. One of three things will happen
1.) You will manage to tell the recipient of dying battery and ask to strike up the conversation again later
2.) You will not manage to tell the recipient of dying battery and ask to strike up the conversation again later
3.) You will receive a text from sweetie poo or prospective sweetie poo along the lines of “Dinner tonight? ;)” At which point your phone will die.
Someone at work will be telling the same corny 3 line joke to anyone willing to stop and listen for 40 seconds
You will see this same joke in someone’s facebook status update
You will finally get out of work to find maybe a parking ticket or bird shit on your door handle.
The car will be hotter than the asshole of the sun or colder than Polar Bear’s nostril. Either way, your thighs or arms WILL stick to your seats furthering your discomfort.
You will get back home and plug in your phone and try to rectify the damage of missing out on previously mentioned Sweetie Poo texts. They will now have other plans
A lightbulb somewhere in the house will burn out
You will not have a replacement
You will stub your toe entering this room at some point
After you finally surrender to this type of day, the coolness of a pillowcase to your cheek is almost soothing - as you reach over to set your alarm clock.
I fucking hate
when people smirk at me like I they don’t think I can see them
ESPECIALLY
when I’m trying to help them out
shame on them
I can’t tell you why it’s necessary to shave half of my head other than that it makes me feel really good. It keeps my head cool in the summertime
I also like that I know it’s one thing I can do physically that will always extract the greatest amount of judgement from strangers. Kind of like a social experiment.
People can see it and will think one or more of the following
- dyke
- skinhead
- freak
- cancer survivor
Of any and all things that people can make of me in their head I know I can change their minds within the time I meet them.
Hair hasn’t been an object for me since High School when I had my mohawk, if I can walk around with a half shaved head and still show people that I’m not a freak, or cancer survivor or general hooligan, then maybe I can show them that using hair as a status symbol is a bit fucking ridiculous.
Mainly though, I do it because I think it’s fucking hot. Er, like it’s hot outside and this cools me down, but girls like Alice Dellal that do this are very sexy.
Can I get
some A-cup love?
Growing up with small boobs in a society which hocks B-cup and higher is really, really, damaging.
I could get on my soapbox about it, but I’m tired.
And no, I will not augment. Strangely I love my tattoos and piercings but I would not augment my breasts.
plus I want to donate my body to science way in the future when I croak and I only want to scare those med students with a few things. Not fake ta-tas.
That is all.
About Real Talk With Sara
No apologies, this is what I'm thinking everyday.
