Rant

This here is a shout out to Sasha Fierce...you inspire on the daily. I totally stole your ranting idea for the blog post.


My mom keeps telling me to do my seminary makeup, but, sorry mom, I don't understand why I have to graduate seminary. I'm not going on a mission, and I'm DEFINITELY not going to BYU, so there's really no point. If you're secretly wondering why BYU is not in the option, I have one word: leggings. I would not be allowed to wear leggings as pants, and that'd be really hard for me. Yeah, throw tomatoes at me and call me slut because of my fashion tendencies, but if wearing leggings as pants is wrong, I don't want to be right. And it's not even like I have good legs or anything. My butt is too big and my thighs are too wide. In fact, I usually rip my leggings at the thigh seam because my thighs are equivalent to that of an elephant's. Yesterday someone told me I have small calves, then said "It's a compliment! Mine are huge!" Last time I checked, you wanted big calves because that meant you're muscular, so yeah, thanks for giving me another thing to be insecure about. I've never even thought about my calves before. But now I have small calves, a big butt, wide thighs, a dimple in my chin, too many zits, short hair, split ends, small eyes, stubby eyelashes, ugly feet, awkward toes, and interesting clothes. I hate when girls compliment me, just to put themselves down. Like, literally, shut up. That defeats the purpose of the entire compliment. Today, I went to a farewell, and a girl who so extremely gorgeous looked at me and said, "You actually get ready on Sundays? Sundays are my days to not get ready!" Yet, she was wearing makeup. She claimed it was "left-overs." Please honey, the only left-overs I know of is left-overs from Sunday dinner, and those are usually gone by Monday afternoon. Also, why is it bad that I got ready? It was a farewell, there were probably going to be pictures taken! Another girl at the farewell told me, "Wow. Look at you. This year is your prime." Uhh...thanks? This girl also constantly compliments me saying that this year I look good and this year I'm beautiful. PLEASE GIRL YOU HAVE KNOWN ME SINCE FIFTH GRADE. How come I wasn't pretty last year, or in seventh grade? WHAT ARE YOU TRYING TO TELL ME. Because, believe me baby, I already know. You know, I was once told that I cannot be defined by my pant size...but what about my dress size?

I just want to erase this entire post,
Penelope Jude.