song against sex

Why do /all/ of my gender issues revolve around what’s in my bra?!
November 13, 2010, 3:03 am
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: , , ,

[Or at least, I’d estimate, 90% of them.]

Tonight I went glow bowling with my family and a huge horde of teenagers in skate clothes and neon sunglasses (aka my youngest brother’s birthday party).  I loooooooooooooooove blacklight. I want it in my future!house. In the living room. And I want crazy skating rink carpet in there. BUT I DIGRESS.

The fun thing about glow bowling, of course, is all the glowing going on. My white “Turn off your TV and read” button was glowing like a lighthouse. I LOVE IT. A few minutes after arriving, I notice you can kind of see my makeshift binder glowing through my blue shirt. Eh, who cares? Not meeee. I was there to have fun, and have fun I did. I was especially bad at bowling tonight, due to some recent wrist issues (not to say that I’m any good when my wrists are healthy). I laughed a lot and we high-fived each other every time one of us got a strike.

About halfway through the night, I turned around to find a girl, one of the party guests, standing by me, leaning in with her face literally two inches away from mine. (Personal space, I MISSED YOU SO MUCH.) She laughed at my obvious discomfort and then began her speech. “Next time you go glow bowling, don’t wear a white sports bra,” she said. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to embarrass you; I just think it’s hilarious.” (Commence hysterical giggling.)

What I wanted to say is quite different from what I actually said. I considered making a snappy remark, perhaps asking her why she wasn’t confronting another guest three feet away whose bra was also glowing through her shirt, or inquiring as to why sports bras are apparently so much funnier than..regular bras (seriously, what are they called), or sweetly informing her that when she turned around, I could see her bra through two shirts. I wanted to point out that my sister’s pink shirt was glowing brighter than my white bra, so good luck with that. I wanted to ask her why she felt like it was her place, as a sixteen-year-old, to tell me (an adult, a casual acquaintance, a chauffeur to and from bowling, and one of her hosts for the night) what I can and can’t wear. I wanted to tell her how many fucks I didn’t give, and I wanted to tell her that it’s a makeshift binder, not a sports bra, and that it was none of her business in the first place.

Instead, I just said that I didn’t know what she was talking about; I wasn’t embarrassed in the least, and I plain old didn’t care. At least I didn’t cause a scene?


2 Comments so far
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Oh love… Some people. -shakes head-

Also, we have very similar views on blacklight. -grins- And what have you done to your wrists? Mine are a combination of being sprained half a dozen times each and overuse.


Comment by Nami

I intend to install blacklight carpet in the living room of my treehouse. FYI.

My wrist pain is a result of suddenly advancing from throwing five pounds of clay to TEN, just because I could. Bahaha. I’ve currently gone back down a bit until they finish healing.

Comment by talialovesyou

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