Celebrate what makes you different

Happy Tuesday everyone,

I wouldn't want to be quote-unquote normal. There are two ways to achieve this so-called normalcy.

1.) For me to be like everyone else and

2.) for everyone else to be like me.

I wouldn't want either of these sorts of normals. I wouldn't want number one because I would have to change. And who has time for that? I also wouldn't want number two because if I ever learned anything from Spongebob it's that that (I will never be comfortable writing "that that". Never.) episode where Squidward moved to Tentacle Acres where everyone was just like him and he was completely miserable. I think that episode taught a great lesson. Being normal, being like everyone else sucks. In the end, Squidward moved back into his Eastern Island Head-esc house between a rock and a (hard place) pineapple that never goes bad where he was different and special.


Being different is awesome. My favorite kind of people are different and therefore special. I think we spend to much time apologizing for what makes us different or hiding what makes us different when we should be celebrating. We should be shouting our differences from the rooftops. (I never understood that phrase. For one, I wouldn't be caught dead on a step ladder let alone a roof due to my fear of heights and while I am naturally very loud, shouting takes a lot of work and I'm not about to scratch up my throat. This is a lot to put in parenthesis.) "I'm ugly and I'm proud." That's not a good example. Why so many Spongebob references today I don't even like Spongebob?


Yes, this entire post was just an excuse to make more lists. If you haven't noticed a lot of my posts lately have had lists. Bonus - I like making lists.

So here is a list of like nine things that make me different.


1.) We're going to jump right in and rip off the bandaids. I have really small boobs.

Once a group of my friends jokingly ranked each other based on boob size. My best friend Melisha, I'm sure, will have no problem with me saying she was at the top with the biggest bust size. Then my ex-best friend. Then my other ex-friend. Then me. Then this guy named Scott. This may already seem sad but it gets worse. The ex-friend just above me in this hierarchy was male.

Boys often have bigger boobs than me. I am often mistaken for a boy myself when I wear a beanie and basketball shorts (my sloppy wear). I can push my boobs completely flat. I can fit my very first training bra from the fourth grade. I do not have a cup size. I don't wear the typical bra that has the clasp in the back. I wear a sort of glorified training bra. Yeah. Really, I don't even have boobs. I'm just overweight. This is my life.

2.) I wear men's underwear. Before you ask I wear both boxers and boxer briefs. And all of my friends, most of my family and my entire neighborhood has seen me in them. I've gone to pick up friends several times in boxers and I park around the corner from my house. So I walk to the car like
that.

I have a pair of shorts that are shorter than what I wear under them so I have to like shove them up. Whenever I wear them I go into the locker room to see my friend and pull the boxers out the bottom of the shorts to make her laugh. Once my entire outfit was black and then there were these electric blue boxers coming out the bottoms.

Once I was making out with codename SNOWMAN in my car and I was thinking out loud and said, "I wonder if my underwear is still in the glove compartment?" (They somehow got caught in my jacket and I didn't realize until I got in my car so I threw them in the glove compartment.). And of course to my distress he took them out, (To clarify I hadn't worn them when they became one with my jacket.) checked the size and threatened to steal them because we're the same size.

3.) I wear men's deodorant. (I'm starting to see a pattern here.)

This is my current stick of choice. To me it smells like candy and soda. I like it. This picture is funny.






4.) I cannot stand having my throat touched. I cannot properly describe how it makes me feel. I will cry, I will become physically ill, I will flip the **** out. Seriously. If I even think you're going to touch my throat I will run away. I cannot handle it. I can't even wear necklaces that are close to my throat and I cut the collar of almost all of my T-Shirts. The last time I went to the dentist I almost had a panic attack (I'm already very afraid of the dentist even though I love my dentist) because the tools they were setting on my chest slipped down to my neck. It was awful.


5.) You may notice that I am horrible at grammar, punctuation (Commas man!) and spelling. All that as a writer I should be very good at. Nope. Not me. My future editor has their work cut out for them. The only F I have in my English class I got on a clause test. All of my other grades in the class are so good that the F didn't impact my overall grade at all.

6.) I cannot stand silence. I have to either be listening to music or watching Tv, Youtube, something.
I can't even fall asleep without some sort of something to listen to. I fall asleep to Netflix most of the time and sometimes it'll glitch or pause or something and I will wake up. Silence wakes me up.

7.) I have a chapstick obsession. The last time I bought chapstick I spent thirty dollars. A whole thirty dollars on chapstick. In my defense I was stalking up. I have to have a tube on me at all times. I probably don't go twenty minutes without putting some on. I have a tube if not several in my pocket, in my bag, my school backpack, my car, my locker. I have them stashed around the house so that no matter where I am one is close.

I kept the receipt because I thought it was funny.

I'm thinking of doing a project sort of like "My Ugly Feet's Journey" where I take a picture of myself everytime I put chapstick on. I don't know why I just think it would be interesting.

8.) I have a really low tolerance for hot food. Orange chicken is hot to me. I don't like salsa or hot cheetos or jalapenos. Code name SNOWMAN is mexican and when we eat together he will spend the entire time holding his tolerance to hot things over me. He's like, "Here this isn't hot." and whatever he has fed me will kill me. I will cry.


9.) To the distress of everyone I know, the only pair of pants I own are pajama pants. A friend from Minnesota or Illinois (I can never remember!) visited once and when I told him I don't have pants he was complete mortified. He said, "I have flannel lined jeans what do you mean you don't have pants?!" I was one of the first San Diegans he met so he then believed the entire city was as crazy as me.

Until next time,
Totally Ky

P.S I was to lazy to take pictures for this post so I pulled all but one off the internets.