F.Y.E.

This is not exactly the blog entry I wanted to write, but I guess it's because I'm not fully prepared to write the blog entry I intended on writing. It will come soon enough. For now, I would like to leave you with something I think you'll find most amusing (I know I did!). However, before we get into that, here are a few quick highlights:

I PASSED THE PHYSICS FINAL! In turn, I PASSED PHYSICS! Actually, I passed physics two steps above what I thought I was going to get. I thought I was going to end up with a D, but I ended up passing with a C-. I know, I know...not the best grade ever. Honestly though, I don't care because it's way higher than I expected! Also, I'm not too bummed because I calculated my cumulative grade point average with me have a D in physics, a C in organic and A-'s in everything else and I would still pull a 3.01. So the fact that I have a C- instead of a D in physics is AWESOME! Thank goodness Longo curves! Speaking of Longo's grade curves, my homework grade should have rounded out to 78%, but the curve made it an 87%. Thank you to all who were too lazy to do the online homework problems! They counted after all...SURPRISE!

Second quick update, Sweeny Todd was awesome. Definitely go see it!

And now for the more entertaining part of this entry:

As I've mentioned to some of you, my mother has a tendency to use my room for her own personal junk storage while I'm away at school. Some of you expressed that you run into a similar problem. Now, for anyone who's seen my and Megan's side of 233 will know that I am pretty organized when it comes to my stuff. Therefore, imagine me walking into my room on the first day of Christmas break and not being able to get passed the door. Luckily, it wasn't too bad because I knew it was coming. Anyhoo, my plan is to redo (and repaint) my room this break in the hopes that once it's cleaned and organize then my mom will stop filling it with crap. In order to do that, I must first sort through the piles of junk that my mother as strewn about the room. I took my first step today and partially conquered the mondo pile of crap that was on my floor. It's not totally gone yet, but I threw away an exploding trash bag full of stuff and you can see a significantly larger portion of my floor now. Phew! One step at a time...Anyhoo, as I was sorting through this pile, I stumbled upon my monologue I used for a Benefit Talent Show I helped out with my senior year. I wanted to share it with you because it was probably my favorite monologue I performed in high school. Not to mention that Miss Pamela Woodward and Miss Megan McGee will probably enjoy it as much as I did! So now I present to you:

Skinny
By Monica Hesse

Some people try to use nice words to describe skinny people. They call us "petite", "slender", and (my personal favorite) "small boned". But to me, that's like calling people with big feet "good ground packers". It might sound nice, but it doesn't change the fact that their shoes are often mistaken for Noah's Ark.

Other people think that my small stature is both useful and entertaining. Whenever a ring or other piece of jewelery has fallen through a small hole, like a drain, or behind a couch, or down a rat-infested sewer, I, with my small hands and tiny wrists, am called upon to fish it out. I am also quite popular in dance class: "Monica, we'd like to try picking up someone by their earlobe, spinning them around at 9000 miles an hour, and then releasing them in the direction of the ceiling, thereby propelling them toward the high speed, jet powered fan. You're skinny, can we try it on you?"

You don't get much sympathy being thin, either. My mother treats it like it's some mysterious illness ("Monica can't come out and play, she's skinny today"). During family gatherings, she occasionally tries to pass me off as an Ethiopian refugee who hasn't eaten for sixteen days. Otherwise, my relatives might notice my lack of mass and accuse her of "not feeding me properly." This is a touchy subject with my mother, who always fears that there is a direct correlation between her bad cooking and my fast metabolism.

One week, in an attempt to "fatten me up," she only cooked meals with more fat content than Luciano Pavarotti. This plan backfired when she and my stepfather gained ten pounds and I lost two. We spent the next week eating only seaweed and bean sprouts.

Buying underwear is another problem. There are simply no bras in my size. I'm forced to shop in the juniors department where all the brassieres sport embarrassing pictures and slogans like, "Little Miss Inverted Chest," and "You're on Your Way to Becoming a Woman Training Bra." Training bras were a concept I could never understand. Training for what? God only knows. Certainly not the Breast Olympics, mine would never make it past time trials.

Don't get my wrong - I'm not complaining too much here. After all, I'm nearly 18 and I'm still admitted with children's fare at the movies. However, just once in my life, I wouldn't mind being able to wear a halter-style top without worrying about the strength of the elastic. I would love to be able to fill a bikini with my curvaceous hips and womanly figure, and stand around with all of my other well-endowed friends as we gawk at all the passerby. "Don't you just hate that girl," we would whisper viciously, "She's so skinny!"


*Twinkle Out*