When I was younger (think 13-15) I used to play dress-up in my room. I'd make up new episodes of my favorite shows, M*A*S*H and Hogan's Heroes, and then act them out in front of a mirror. I was always the hero, and I usually got horrifically wounded in some way that saved every single other person in the general vicinity, and then made a magical recovery from the edge of the grave to everyone's great relief and astonishment. Some of those stories involved me pretending to be a boy. I'd wrap my chest up in Ace bandages until I looked like I had pecs instead of boobs. It was always a little difficult to breathe. I usually incorporated that into my almost-tragic story.
I stopped my imaginary life on the battlefield when my real life got busy and I got more friends. Plus there's no way I could pass for a boy anymore. Unless that boy had some serious man-boobs.
My head aches, my nose is drippy, and I feel like I have an ACE bandage wrapped around my chest. And Alan Alda is nowhere to be found.
 |
| Oh, you... |
Damnit.
Track of the day: Bang Bang by will.i.am
Blue: My foot, I've been sitting on it and it's turning colors.
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