this be random yo

Its August. Holy shit. It feels wonderful to not be working a 'back-to-school' sale this year. I will not be cleaning dressing rooms or ringing up angry mothers buying jeans and sweaters that their kids won't be wearing until November. No sir!

I have this habit of not wanting to talk to people. Like right now, Zach's brother is trying to talk to me and be funny and I am having to force myself to reply. Oh my god stop talking, please. I'm not a bitch I swear!

When I return to Marquette I get to visit Mr. Skin Doctor and brag about how I was only sun-toasted once this summer. We will probably high five each other and then I'll throw off my shirt and point out my new moles. That sounds sick and wrong, however, true. I don't hate my pale skin, in fact, I like it most of the time, but summer can be a daunting. When I slip into my flowery bathing suit, I'm not thinking about my body (yeah, yeah it could use a little toning but god damn, I fill out my top nicely) I'm thinking about my skin. Being next to a group of tanned ladies, old, young, fat, skinny, makes me really really self conscious, to top it off, sometimes I even get funny looks. I have enough self-esteem to not hide under a rock and lucky me, I have a boyfriend who makes kissy faces and tells me my skin is beautiful when those sun baked ladies come around. Thank you my tall, gawky bf, we are two peas in a pod.

I'm going to stop now because this is a dumb post.

Peaches