Yup.

I survived. This week there hasn't been a single day that I got to bed before 2 a.m., and I've had to get up early for class or work every day. I had 2 major projects, plus tons of last minute paperwork for ASP and study abroad. It just about drove me out of my mind. On the bright side, though, a couple of friends saved my butt in spectacular ways (thanks Chris, Ashley, and KJ!) and tonight has been a blast. And tomorrow I get to leave all of this terrible stress behind and drive off into the sunset (actually, toward the sunrise, as we're going east, but whatever) to get away from everything for a week. I can't wait. So, I won't be posting for at least a week, but when I'm sure I'll have lots to say when I get back. Until then, I leave you with this.


I know the second she enters the room. I don't have to look behind me to know that she has beautiful, shiny, flawlessly styled hair. I don't have to look toward the door to know that she's slender and curvy, with painted-on pants and a strategically placed tank-top. That's how they always look. And suddenly I'm invisible to the guys who were my closest friends two minutes ago. It doesn't matter that I was in the middle of a comment. It doesn't matter that we were laughing together moments ago. Now I'm not even here. She'll come over and flirt, she'll touch their shoulder just so, or give them that look, or climb all over them overtly. It doesn't really matter what she does because she'll ooze femininity and flaunt her sex appeal until all of them are practically drooling. She wants every male's attention and, of course, she gets it.
I didn't need her presence to remind me that I'm only temporary entertainment until the better women arrive. She didn't have to show off her beauty for me to know that I'm the chubby, plain, awkward type of female that would rather be talking football and trucks than reading Cosmo. I already knew that my looks couldn't compare. Wit and humor just don't garner attention like a tight butt.
It doesn't matter that I dream of having a guy look at me as though he can't tear his eyes away. It makes no difference that I long to just once walk into a room and watch the male heads turn. It's silly. I just don't want to disappear in the eyes of my male friends the second a perfectly-coiffed, feminine girl steps into the room.

Not a complaint, just something to think about.