Feeling: Feminine. It's odd.
Listening to: Saves the Day - Jukebox Breakdown
Reading/Watching: "Islam Today" by Akbar S. Ahmed

I wore a skirt to school today.

I know, most of you are sitting there saying, "...so?" but for me, this is a thing worth commenting on. I'm the girl who lives in jeans. Except for the off day when I'm suffering from kindergarten-dress-up syndrome, or when I'm so completely out of clothes that I'm wearing black slacks and no underwear, I usually can be found in weathered blue denim. Nice outfits, skirts and such, are reserved for church and concerts.

Why? I because I feel awkward as ass in them. I mean, they slide up when I sit down, they're constantly shifting and swishing around my legs, and it's just plain weird. Plus, I'm insanely insecure about my legs. They're pale and odd-looking and for some reason I have the calves of an Olympic sprinter, without the fun ability to run well. I've tried dieting, but the damn things are all muscle and they never shrink.

I realize that, as a woman, there are occasions that call for a skirt. But usually it takes God or music to get me into one (you know, the two strongest forces in my life? yeah). And even then, the skirt is most often to my ankles.

And today, I suddenly realized I had this little skirt that I bought on impulse in JC Penney on day, one I've worn once because Bri talked me into buying it, since it only cost eleven dollars. Suddenly, I felt like being girly (lord knows what possessed me... that thing doesn't handle 12-hour wear very well). After going through three classes sitting pigeon-toed and trying to develop a method of discreetly pulling it off the backs of my legs when I stood up, I remembered why I don't wear skirts very often. I retreated to the Honors office for work, a place that didn't require much walking, where I could hide behind a big desk until a reasonable hour when I could go back up to my room to change.

Then Bri called me and asked me to go shopping with her, another girly activity that I usually avoid (I go with an objective in mind, buy what I want, and leave--very little browsing involved), and I agreed. But that's not the worst of it: somehow I wound up buying a dress.

Not just a skirt. A dress. Because it was there, all cute and red, seducing me with the v-neck and slashed cap sleeves, the deep scarlet fabric silently screaming, "You know you want me. You know it." Little polyester tramp. (If it'd been me facing the apple in the Garden of Eden, I wouldn't have held out two seconds. The snake would've been just slithering out for a chat when I took my first bite.)

Now I have to find an occasion to wear the little booger. My next door neighbor said maybe for a date, and didn't understand why I laughed at her.

But I don't have the willpower to return it. It's so pretty. Plus I took the tags off already, as a safeguard against chickening out. So I'll have to invent a reason. Don't be surprised if I suddenly develop an interest in wine tastings or sorority semi-formals, something improbable and disgustingly yuppie-esque, just so I can whip out the sassy little red dress.

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