I finally broke down and bought some bike shoes! I don't have the money, but my knees are pissed, so I gave in. Thanks goodness the home dog at the shop gave me a huge deal. Love him
I like my curly hair. Really, despite my inability to do it well I like myself with my frizz and fro. Occasionally, especially recently, I have been waking up at the butt-hole and crack of dawn every day. Therefore, straightening my hair so I don't have to do it for an undisclosed amount of time (due to a certain yuck factor), is delightful.
I am interning at the Strength and Conditioning facility at the U and a fellow on the baseball team said this after practice:
"did you straighten your hair?"
"yes I did"
"you look SOOOOO different"
"I mean you don't look worse, or necessarily better, but different"
5 minutes later
"seriously, you could literally be a transformer"
"Not that you're masculine looking or anything"
"you should stop"
Now, I realize the inevitable 'slit-your-wrist'-ness of the title, but this blog is dedicated solely to the thoughts circulating my cranium....so I can promote Prozac all I want. So, last night I watched a movie, this movie to be exact
I bawled my eyes out.
Now, I am not normally the sort of female (I love when Keira Knightly says that in P&P to the dreaded cousin Mr. Collins, "I am not the sort of female to torment a respectable man. Please understand me, I cannot accept you!" Phenomenal movie) who voluntarily picks movies that will cause blubbering, snot and tears. I have this weird pride thing that often prevents me...it's the darndest thing. Anyway, lately I have been on this documentary/true story kick, and let me tell ya, the real world kicks Charlie's, The Notebook's, and P.S. I Love You's trash when it comes to making one fall apart. This movie was so great and to think that it is true, how I wish I could hear the real Aunt's voice telling Soraya's story to the reporter. Watch it, you'll more fully understand my rantings.
Similarly, we had a guest speaker in my Women's Health and Nutrition class on Thursday (oh, the class that lasts 3 1/2 hours you ask? Yes, that one. The one that I am ravenously hungry in cause I've depleted my food stores out of my backpack for the day? Yes, right again, that very class). Anyway, the guest speaker was from the Rape Recover Center in SLC. Did you know that 1 out of every 3 women in Utah is raped or severely sexually assaulted? I know, this is definitely cozy goodness you want to snuggle up to a fire and drink hot cocoa to. But, needless to say it was a powerful class filled with interesting discussion from men and women on the issue. The teacher even spoke up and told us of her personal story of being assaulted. It was an intense but beautiful moment.
Point being, while these helpless women probably should have caused me to feel vulnerable and scared to be female, I realized they empowered me. These strong women who have gone through hell are beautiful, distinct minds who want to create, build and enhance the world with their thoughts and stories, not just their scars. Sorry, I'm just feeling like waving my feminist flag today I guess. But I'm happy to be a woman and have this body, this mind, and... even my ovaries....which have a tendency to give me pain and unwarranted estrogen freak-outs on innocent passers-by.
(this is undoubtedly where Kyle calls me a lesbo....)