First week of classes and bra shopping.

I've been trying to think of a blog post to write all week. Nothing much happened this last week.

Monday night I worked the Galaxy Christmas party and didn't get home until four in the morning. My first day of classes was Tuesday. I needed to wake up at eight so I could get to class on time. I woke up groggy(to say the least), struggled to put on clothes and makeup and took my dog around the block for a walk--she shit twice. I don't know why all of a sudden she's decided that it is best to take two craps instead of one; maybe because she thinks it's funny when I've already thrown my baggy out--Anyway, I got in my car and my cell phone alarm (that reminds me to take my medication) went off.

I have a bit of a hormone imbalance and my body naturally produces too much testosterone so I take spironalactone which helps suppress it. Also over the past year I've been dealing with kidney stones so I carry my prescription of Oxy-codone around in my purse in case I need to take it. Long story short, oxy-codone pills look almost the exactly the same as spironalactone.

I almost swallowed four pills of oxy-codone right before my first day of class, working towards a substance abuse counseling certificate. Thankfully, I noticed the writing on the back of the pills first.

In class I was still not entirely awake. It's kinda like taking DARE as an adult, except the teachers are a bit more realistic--even heavy drinkers aren't necessarily alcoholics and smoking one joint won't get you addicted to crack. I think I'm going to enjoy the classes; I always liked learning about drugs. But the first day of class was really just going over the syllabus and introducing ourselves. You know: "Hi my name is Natalie. I like eating tacos. One interesting thing about me is that I'm competing in an international art contest." I hate these things--I'm not that interesting and I never know what to say.

So, I'm in class dreading my turn and looking around for lesbians. Yeah, that's what I do in any social situation where I don't know anyone: I look for lesbians. Only one girl stood out. She was one of the ponytail through a baseball cap, sweatshirt wearing type of girls girls, and looked like she probably plays softball, and/or a lot of sports. I'm not really a sports person. Balls are boring. I don't understand why anyone cares which team can put a ball through a net or into a net the most. The only sports I like are the ones that are about hurting people; football, boxing, Olympic wrestling, ultimate fighting (though I think I prefer boxing because... well, I think I'd rather watch someone get beat to a pulp with nothing but fists--just me). Anyway...

This is what I'm thinking: "You aren't really my type, but it looks like you're the only other lesbian in here so we should meet. I'm really nice and people tend to like me."

I forget what I said about myself when it was my turn.

After classes, and a second five hour energy I decided that rather than buy my books I should go home and try to take a nap. The nap didn't happen. I might not have been super alert but I wasn't falling asleep either. I lay on my couch with my dog for a couple hours then went out to Cary Street Cafe for happy hour, and (I discovered) open-mike night. I just got to say, I really enjoyed it. The bands were electric, jammy, and covered good music; the opening song was "Paradise" by John Prine, one of my favorites.

I took a cab home and ordered and extra large pizza with a two liter of mountain dew--yeah, I was hungry and totally not caring about the diet I'm supposed to be on.

Wednesday I wasn't able to buy my books because the campus was closed due to the weather, which, though the roads were icy, I didn't think warranted closing a college. I didn't check and drove all the way out to Parham Road to find the parking lot empty.

It was Thursday when I got my student ID.

JESUS CHRIST!!! I look awful on my ID. I look like a transsexual lesbian. It seriously bothered me looking at my photo. "I look like that!? Well shit! No wonder no one wants to date me. Maybe surgery can fix that? I don't really have the money but I can start saving..." I made a post about it on Facebook, and everyone commented telling me it couldn't be that bad, that ID photos are always terrible, and about their bad photos etc., except one friend. He liked it--asshole. Kinda funny though.

Friday I actually had extra money because it turns out I can buy textbooks with my financial aid even though I haven't gotten any refund into my account yet. I went bra shopping.

A month or two ago I took an online test about how my bra fit that told me I was wearing the wrong size. It said I should try going up a cup size or two and down a band size. This actually makes sense to me because for as big as my breasts are none of my bras really give me cleavage.

I love my breasts probably more than almost anyone. I wanted a bra that would show them off and make it hard for people to look away. Yeah, that's what I wanted. I was looking for a 36DDD or E. Burlington coat factory didn't have any bras this size. They did have some really cool black lady at church hats that I had to try on and take a selfie with. I sent them to a friend who joined me for the rest of the afternoon. After several stores and three hours of trying on all different sizes of bra that didn't really fit, I was about ready to give up on bras all together.

"Think people would notice," I asked my friend, "if I just stopped wearing a bra into Babe's?"
"Yeah,"

I went to Victoria's Secret for a fitting. It turns out I was wearing the right size to begin with. I am somewhere between a D and DD. I end up trying several bras that the sales lady kept handing to me under the door of my dressing room. After three or four I don't even bother putting my own bra back on while waiting for the sales lady to return. Instead I start bouncing around in front of the mirror getting my boobs to jiggle in circles. That's when the she decided to knock on the dressing room door. "Are you decent?" She asked.
"No," I said, "give me a minute."

I wonder if she knew what I was doing. Do they have cameras in those dressing rooms? Or does everyone bounce around in front of the mirror to see their boobs jiggle?

I finally pick out a bra. Seriously, considering how long it's been since I've slept with anyone, and how few people actually see my bra I don't know why it is really important to me to find one that is cute. And I don't understand why there are so many ugly bras out there. What junior fashion designer is designing all these things? And who is buying a bra made of blue vinyl? (Of course maybe that's why it was in the discount bin.)

Friday evening I wore my new bra to work (and my tank top with my jean jacket) to show the girls off. It's the right size and comfortable, but not what I wanted. Oh well.

Saturday night the girl from my class introduced herself. Maybe taking classes is a good way to meet people.

Oh, and on a final note. I don't know what this says about me, but I took an online inkblot test and every single inkblot looked like a woman's body (or two women's bodies), or oddly enough a lamp. It had multiple choice answers that except in one or two cases didn't have "naked woman" as an option. I chose the second best answer.

The result of my ink blot test said I was normal.