A History of

I'm very inspired by Trope Girl's post, so I'm going to talk about how I'm going to make friends in Scotland. Hopefully, this will aid some people into making a complete idiot out of bolstering themselves for confidence and lasting FRIENDSHIPS (it pains me to write that word).

STEP 1

INTRODUCE YOURSELF

When I was in freshman year, I was a complete spinny top of chaos and self-esteem issues and wanting social acceptance. However, having the dram background I did, I could ACT like I was confident! ACTING!



I was a precocious little child, with my big bushy blonde hair and my pink dress and shoes. I was quite the social butterfly. I made friends with my dorm-mates pretty easily. I lived in freshman hall of my dorm, and social acquaintances were easy to make. It was my luck that people who liked ATLA, and other, related things were in my dorm. Instant buddies!

Yes, we are all dorks here. And we are not ashamed.

Fast forward two years, and I have a whole bunch of friends. One is the nephew of my mom's bestie from elementary school, one is his girlfriend, people from my classes, others are in the Hooligans, one is from SF, and others I do illegal things with.

I'm a changed person now, and while my hair isn't as legendary, and I don't wear that pink dress much anymore, I have a plan.

Be confident. Don't fangirl too much over the accents. I'm a kickass motherfucker, and people want to know me.

Yee.

I can't believe I'm going to New York on Tuesday.

With the Barely Legal Coed.

And we're going to see Perfect Pitch, and party it up.

OMG, SUMMER

RIGHTEOUS. RIGHTEOUS.

To Do List For Summer of Awesome:

1) Go to the city multiple times to party with Our Glorious Queen and LaVenti

2) Go to New York with the Barely Legal Coed and Yaya

3) Teach Not!Racheland the Clone the ways of college

4) Start an album called "The Frias Siblings: Part I"

5) Get some semblance of a physique

BUREAUCRACY CAN DIE IN A FIRE.

This is where I had to go to declare my major. Stupid study abroad.

I'm procrastinating.

There. I said it. I'm almost done with the rough draft of this paper I'm doing--on being a woman in modern hinduism...mostly because that's ALL I've ever done in that freaking class. I'm basically taking snippets of my past papers and am synthesizing them to make an über paper. I'm probably not going to finish it today. OR AM I?

There is nothing like walking around all day in booty shorts, and not realizing it until three hours later when you catch your reflection in the CP&R window.

The end of the year is quickly approaching. That means that Chowder--our glorious leader of the 9th Street Hooligans--will be graduating, and working for Google. That's right. Google. Lucky bastard. Perfect Pitch said that the group was him and Chowder's baby, that they're watching it grow up, and it's growing up well. Dakota said that we BROUGHT IT. That a cappella on these campuses was becoming stagnant, and we revitalized it. That's motivation to become the best group on campus. The Shades got invited to send in a video to the Sing-Off--or the program that actually proves a cappella exists, and isn't this alien being. They were invited because they're the most established, have several albums, have toured, etc. Personally (this isn't coming from any kind of bias)...I think we could kick their asses.

Perfect Pitch and Chowder really are the mom and dad of this group. And as Perfect Pitch says, "Mommy's going to be upset that Daddy's gone."

I'm going to be upset too. I'm going to miss Chowder, as big an asshole as he was. He was a lovable asshole, though.

SHAKTIIII.

A Very Special Post: also known as TL;DR

I'm going to start out with my celebrity idol.

She's gorgeous, she's confident, she's one of the best actresses out there on one of my favorite shows, and she is not a size 2.

But notice.

She has breasts.

This isn't going to be complaining about my lack of proper boobage (even if I do envy the more...endowed among us), but look at her. She's the definition of humina humina curvy. Some would even venture to guess she's s little overweight (which is NOT true, but compared to every image we see about what health NEEDS to look like, she's a regular chubbette). But she has breasts.

Why is it that acceptably curvy women need to have T&A (the bigger the better), while breastless women have to be thin all over?

This is where I 'fess up.

I have an unhealthy obsession with my weight.

As the "fat kid" in elementary and middle school, I was not directly teased about it. I also read books. I was middle class in a class full of rich kids. I wore glasses. I was somewhat pretentious. I didn't play any sports. I walked funny. I was THE target of ridicule. Lucky for me, I found people who loved and respected me for who I was, and I was able to survive. High school came around, and suddenly nobody cared. I had hit puberty, and for the first time in my life, I was considered thin. But then I hit puberty harder. I was 125 pounds at 5'3. And you know what? I didn't care. I hated when pictures were taken of me, but so did everybody.

When I got into college, I realized that I would be in a coed environment again. Already having an unhealthy obsession with weight, I did my best to lose those last ten pounds, so I would be beautiful. So I would be worthy of attention. If I wasn't thin, the middle school horrors would begin again. Nobody would pay any attention to me because I was a weird, fat nerd who wrote stories and ate by herself in the library. This resulted in losing twelve pounds unhealthily fast, and eventual hospitalization from exhaustion and hypoglycemia.

A year goes by. I start the year. The semester ends. I am heartbroken by the loss of my first boyfriend, but then the Barely Legal Coed comes into my life. He had been in my a cappella group before, but after crying to him about how ugly I must have been for my boyfriend to dump me like last week's handbag, he interrupted me.

"You think you have this mark on you that makes you ugly, but you're not. You are so beautiful. And I...love you."

Five months later, we're still a couple.

But the feelings are coming back. I've been called beautiful, cute, hot, gorgeous, kind, sweet, and people have told me they're glad I'm their friend. I'm creeping back up the weight scale (even though I know what's causing it--my munchies binges, my lack of working out). I see people who are much thinner than I am everywhere on campus, and I feel a pang of self consciousness. I wonder why the Barely Legal Coed stays with me. I wonder why people call me pretty.

This is selfish. I know this. There are people heavier than me. There are people who would kill to have my body. But this is my blog. And I'll be as selfish as I please.

What is a beauty standard? Why do I feel awful about myself for not being thin enough, not having a tiny enough nose, hating my hair. Why do I need attention from men? Why do I feel like, if I weighed 103 pounds, I would be happier? Why am I constantly comparing myself to everyone else, as if it's a contest?

It's not a contest. I should just get over myself and deal with it.

It's hard.

Twenty days until I go to New York with the Barely Legal Coed

Eleven days until I go home.

Ten days until my Hinduism Final.

Five days until the final concert of the Hooligans.

One day until this paper is due.

Let's rock it.

AGHH AGGH AGGH

I should be napping. Or working on a research paper. But instead, I blog! How nice.

I've not gotten more than five straight hours of sleep since...last month. And what a time it has been. Parties, lots of parties. Staying up. Making friends. Doing illegal things. Nuzzling with the Barely Legal Coed.

Humans v. Zombies is a game I will cherish forever. Perfect Pitch made it come into being, and it is one of the best things I've done this year.

Naps.