I wake up in the morning feeling like P Diddy… Wrong.Â
I roll over in my bed on a fine Thursday morning. It’s week 2 of classes and so far I’m crushing it. I haven’t missed any classes and I’ve managed to hand in all my assignments- things are looking good. I was even able to update my phone software to the new iOS 7 last night. Eager to test out the new technology, I pick up my phone. The time reads 8:06 which normally wouldn’t bother me, but today it did. I opened my computer… 8:06. I check my roommate’s watch… 8:06. For some reason it was 8:06 and not 7:00, the predetermined start time of my Thursdays. What had happened and who could I blame?
As my brain slowly came to the realisation that I was running late, I hopped out of bed and spun into action. Stumbling around the room, I found my pants, books, and computer. I popped in some gum, pulled my fingers through my hair, and ran out the door. Eleven minutes after waking up, I was in my building waiting to take my seat. Seems pretty amazing right? Wrong, again.
Guess who wasn’t wearing a bra? This girl.Â
I don’t know if you’re aware of sizes and whatnot, but for simplicity’s sake let’s just call them ‘really big’. ‘Really big’ is synonymous with ‘really needs a bra’. This was really bad. For the whole hour and a half lecture I sat with my arms crossed over my chest in hopes that no one would notice my small (big) mishap. Relieved when the class came to an end, I tried to slink out of the room unnoticed- but then I heard my name.
Of course… of course we needed to work on a group project right now. This is the perfect time to be in a tiny room with people I hardly know. I settle in with my arms crossed and endure the next two hours of focusing on not letting them flop- the girls, not the group.Â
Finally, FINALLY, after a long day of torture in the form of awkward-no-bra-ness,I made it back to my safe little room. As I pull off my sweater, I get a wiff of something unpleasant. Ugh. I also forgot deoderant.
I know you feel it: the second hand embarrassment… the same pity you feel when you see a three-legged cat… the laughter bubbling up inside you… the relief you feel because this wasn’t your second Thursday of the year. It must be nice to be you.