Being Amber Rhea

I have several posts on particular topics saved as drafts, but since I’ll probably never actually write them all, I decided I’ll just do one post addressing all or most of them. Besides, reading my archives (which I’ve been doing periodically over the past week or so, as I slowly go through and tag the old pre-WP entries and update old URLs) made me remember that that’s how I used to write my blog all the time, that’s what comes naturally to me, and that’s why and how I started blogging in the first place. So, back to basics!
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So this girl was giving me a hard time, ostensibly in a friendly way, about how I wear “baggy clothes” and therefore she didn’t know I had “such a nice body” until she saw my pole dancing videos on YouTube. I should’ve said something to her at the time - and there is a slim but existent chance that she may read this, and I’m okay with that - but I haven’t had the energy for confrontation lately, especially with her, because she’s been such a good friend in so many other ways since my dad’s death. When I look at it objectively it’s a rather minor annoyance in the grand scheme of things. But she just kept going ON and ON about it, telling me things like I need to wear a small not a medium (um, sometimes I do; sizes vary, after all), and you know, at a certain point, it grates. Badly.

And she isn’t the first to do this. Not at all - she just took it further than most people have. I mean, even Rusty said I have “stealth tits” (not mad at him about that; but just saying). People say they’re surprised, as if my measurements snuck up on them, because I “don’t wear tight clothes” (their words). This girl in particular was the first in a while (if ever; I really don’t know) to actually say “baggy clothes.” It got to the point with her where even though I knew she was trying to be complimentary, it was starting to make me feel like I was in middle school all over again, being critiqued about what’s not good enough about me.

And anyway, give me a break! First of all, I don’t think I wear baggy clothes. No, I don’t wear skin-tight clothes, either; but you know why? Because it’s not comfortable to me, especially when it’s HOT out, like it happens to be right now in mid-summer Georgia.

I think the next time I talk to this girl, if she brings it up, I’m going to say something like, “I appreciate your compliments about my figure, but I dress the way I want to dress and the subject is not open for debate.” If I have the energy, that is. I’ll probably be talking to her after work today, so we’ll see if she mentions it. Hopefully she won’t and that’ll be that.

I have this relatively new pair of pants, and they’re so fucking ugly. And I love ‘em because of it. They look like the kind of pants a sweaty cafeteria worker would wear, or maybe a woman working at a gas station in Siloam, Georgia. Here’s the official picture from Old Navy, but it really doesn’t do their ugliness justice. They are almost completely shapeless, and have a weird glossiness to them… fabulous.

That is all for now.

The light blue pants that I bought a little over a week ago (featured in the Weird Georgia Road Trips, Part III picture extravaganza) are going to have to be returned to Old Navy. After only two wearings, they were quickly becoming my new favorite pants, but somehow their first washing (last night) caused the freaking zipper to freaking BREAK. The two sides became separated from each other, so the little part that moves up and down (what do you call that, anyway? the “handle”?) doesn’t connect with anything on the left side, thus rendering the zipper moot. :P I suppose I’ll exchange them for another pair and hope the new pair isn’t plagued with the same Crazy Divorcing Zipper problem. And I guess it’s jeans today.

I am extremely disappointed with the latest batch of socks I bought at Target. I’ve had them a little over a week, and already two pairs have very substantial holes in the heels! And this is after only one washing! I am appalled.