Ok so the moving thing is taking it's time. And I am at my Grandma's "checking my school email for new work" since I have missed two days of college now.
The reason for this is that I went to see Joesph and The Technicolour Dreamcoat last night - which was fabulous. Not the west end production, mind, with Lee Mead. But the touring one with Craig, Keith, and Chris from Any Dream Will Do and a bloke from Grease is the Word. It was awesome. Reminded me of times when we were younger and used to see the local panto every single winter.
Anyway, off that slightly nostalgic route, I intend to blog something that has been on my mind for a while.
Boobs.
Yes, that's it folks. I want to blog about boobs. My own infact, and not in a good way.
I hate them. I really do. I hate the way people comment on them. I know they are quite large, but they are also in proportion to the rest of my body. So why make jokes out of them?
For instince, a few lunchtimes ago, one of my 'friends' said "You see Becca keeps hers under control, but yours Nic explode and have minds of there own."
At that moment I looked down to see I was infact wearing an oversized ski-trip hoody, which has a high neck line, and I thought "What is she going on about? They aren't on show, they aren't 'exploding', infact they are safely contained in a bra and two layers of clothing."
ARGH - Rageful indeed.
It even gets the point where I don't wear any low cut clothes at all. I have several v-neck jumpers (currently in holdals) which would be perfect for weather like now, but I simply just don't wear them. And even a £145 dress that my Grandma bought me - I get criticism for wearing it because they are on show.
I know, also, that there have been some moments when I have laughed along with the jokes. Because, on the odd occassion, they are funny.
But honestly people, they are just boobs. Plain and simple. So please, everyone, just stop, because, and no pun intended...
IT REALLY GETS ON MY TITS.
