Remind Me Not To Do That Again

I looked at myself in the mirror before we left the house last night and, for the tenth time, almost went back into my room and changed. I'd decided to test my roomie's philosophy of dolling up the exterior to adjust the attitude of the interior... also known as looking hot when you feel like shit. Overall, my outfit wasn't anything different than what I normally wear: long black skirt, black boots, black t-shirt and a pink sweater. The only difference was the t-shirt's plunging neckline that showed off my "charm and charisma." At this point, I'd like to remind people that I am, in fact, a girl. Honestly, people, they're just boobs. Who cares. Anyway, needless to say, I knew somebody was going to say something and I was fine with that. In fact, I wanted the compliments...I wanted to hear that I looked good and attractive and feminine. What I didn't expect was the very uncomfortable feeling that came along with the comments from people I didn't even know. I remembered about ten minutes after I walked into the bar why I don't wear stuff like that very often. I felt like the normal, nice girl I usually am had become the subject of a science experiment gone awry and all that was left of me was a giant walking set of tits. And while I sat on the window ledge talking to Brad and Lara, it struck me why I was uncomfortable: even now, two years after I lost all that weight, I'm mentally still in fat girl mode. I still hear that voice on the phone from 3 years back saying, "You're really nice and I think you're cool, but I'm not into big girls." I still remember the day that I overheard a friend of a friend saying, "She's got a pretty face...if she wasn't a fat chick, I'd totally do her."

I dunno. All I can say is that it'll probably be awhile before I let "the girls" out again in public. I guess I'm not a big fan of being "treated like a girl."