I spent far too much of my day yesterday scrutinizing my body. Looking to see if I had muffin top over my shorts, or if you could even see it through my loose-fitting tank top. Pinching my belly fat while sitting at my desk.
Maybe if I pinch it enough it will go away.
I’ve also been trying really hard lately to stand/sit up straight. My posture is kind of atrocious. I’m tall (ish) and a lot of my friends are not. I’ve reached a point where I feel weird when I’m around people who are my height or taller. Mainly women. I don’t really have a problem being surrounded by tall, handsome men. But what woman doesn’t?
Also, boobs are heavy. I’m lazy and I get tired of trying to hold them up.
But I need to correct my posture before I get stuck looking like Quasimodo forever. I need to be able to look confident and professional when I sing. And I need to look classy instead of weird when I wear heels. The fact that standing up straight makes me pull my stomach in instead of push it out could be helpful, too.
I had an hour till kill between the time I got off work and the time I was supposed to go to my voice lesson (that had been rescheduled from Saturday because I was too busy staying awake till four in the morning to get up at ten… Except I got up at ten anyway because I had to call to cancel the lesson and it was too beautiful outside to go back to sleep), so I went into town to copy some music I was supposed to give back to my teacher three months ago.
I had planned to go home and make dinner after and it’s annoying to try to sing properly when I’ve just eaten.
Plus, my only food options were Subway, McDonald’s, and sweets from Starbucks. So, I just decided to wander around in Barnes and Noble for about a half an hour and try to find a new book today.
I didn’t. I ran out of time.
I think it was because I didn’t know exactly what I was looking for and it’s been a long time since I just browsed in there.
I forgot how much it is like my own personal promised land.
I’m getting off topic.
I know. It’s what I’m good at.
Anyway, so I was walking from my car down the sidewalk to Barnes and Noble. I was wearing these canvas wedges that I’ve had since I worked at Payless, so over two years, with Bermuda shorts and a long kind of loose fitting/flowy tank-top. And my Ray-Bans. The best sunglasses ever; a birthday present from my dad.
There was a group of teenagers sitting between the trash can and the door. I was trying my best to keep my good posture and not step on any of them. I thought I was in the clear when the 12 year-old (looking) girl on the edge started talking to me. Loudly, to get my attention.
“Are you a model?”
I stopped and looked at her.
“No.” I said as flatly as I possibly could. I don’t trust 12 year-olds.
“Oh.” She said, then turned back to her friends as I turned and walked into the store.
I spent the next two hours analyzing if she was being sincere or a bitch. I assume all 12 year-olds are bitches.
With good reason. I was 12, once, after all.
The thing is that they’re really easy to see through. She didn’t have an attitude when she said it, which is pretty much how preteens operate. They think they’re getting away with sarcasm, but they’re really just being little bitches.
I couldn’t find any indications of insincerity, so I’m currently forced to believe she was actually being sincere. Which leads me to wonder why she chose to ask me the question.
Maybe she asked every person who walked in front of her and I just happened to be the only one passing while I was within earshot?
Maybe it was the fact that I can actually walk in the shoes I wear? Admittedly, some are better than others. But three-inch wedges aren’t exactly that difficult to walk in anyway.
Was she sitting at such an angle that she couldn’t see my stomach? Did she think I was wearing the biggest padded bra ever?
I bet it was the sunglasses. Could have been the sunglasses and the shoes.
Maybe I just need the Magic Mirror from Snow White.