23 Hours

It's 1 in the morning, and I'm awake blogging.  Stupid, really, since I know that these entries go unnoticed.  In a way, it's actually good I think, this way, if someone ever DOES read this shit, it's coming from an honest place.
In approximately 23 hours, 2011 will be upon us, and I'm so ready to wash away 2010.   I'm ready to let go of a lot that has happened to me, ready to move on from the things holding me back.  I'm going to try to make some resolutions, starting with the ones I posted on Facebook earlier this week.

1. Wear more button down shirts: I've discovered that I like this style, and because I have a really long neck, so the high collar actually looks really good on me.  They're also extremely comfortable and can be dressed up or down, which is perfect for college.

2. Laugh Outrageously at least once a day: This is something I definitely didn't do this past year.  I had a few rough days where laughing seemed impossible.  In the past few months at school, I've made friends who know how to laugh, even when things get tough, and it has made all the difference.  I love all of you guys, new friends and old.

3. Find excuses to wear fancy clothing: I say, instigate Fancy Friday all semester long!  It feels good to get gussied up once in awhile, and it doesn't hurt your self confidence at all!

4. (this one is especially important to me) Stop giving a damn about the past.  It certainly doesn't give a damn about you: this one comes from a bitter place.  I have the habit of becoming attached emotionally to things in a short period of time, namely people.  I made some attachments this year that I thought were good, but only ended up hurting me, and I have been running around with this open emotional wound that is getting old.  I accept that this particular situation is obliterated, and I am pressing on.  You will no longer hold me back.  You said it yourself: there are a million guys who are better than you.  I know that for a fact. 


5. Got boobs? This is for the women, both flat and full, LOVE YOUR BOOBS, NO  MATTER WHAT SIZE YOU ARE!!! Here's a little hint, once a man has your bra off, he won't care how much cleavage you were showing, or the cup size, or how much padding you have, he'll only care that your boobs are on display. And he likes it.  Personally, I indulged in this by purchasing a brand spankin' new bra! And it's pretty! and it makes my cleavage look DAMN HOT.

6. My feet are not prima-ballerina's feet, love them anyway: For the dancers with feet that don't point as far as they want, or feet without arches, know that my feet are horrid.  I have wrestled with the undancerness of my feet for the past five years, and it has resulted in nothing but overstretched achilles tendons and plantar fasciitis.  Trust me, it's not worth it.  You can be a beautiful dancer without high arches or flexible ankles.  If you have a short achilles tendon, embrace it! Your plie might be small, but your jumps are fantastic!

7. Learn to love my legs: I have bowed legs and tibial torsion.  And nobody knows what the hell that is.  Nobody cares.  Why should I?

8. Find interesting ways to do mundane tasks: whether it's walking to class or brushing my hair, Even thinking about unicorns might help some.

9. Get out of my comfort zone: Part of this comes from self esteem.  Believe it or not, I'm not as confident as I appear to be.  I have my own stigmas and what not that probably cause more problems than they should.  This is the backbone for a lot of these resolutions.

10. Perform more music: I missed singing last semester.  I missed playing my guitar and singing and writing songs.  I'm not going to let that get away from me again.

11. Old habits die hard, but some must die: I don't want to change everything about me, but there are a few tics in my personality that probably shouldn't be present.  Nobody really knows which of my quirks actually annoy me, I'm keeping that a secret.  Hopefully the transition away from them will be unnoticable in the long run.

12. Write more letters: Good old-fashioned snail-mail is fun to get and fun to write!

13. Sketch and draw: Little known fact about me, I used to be really passionate about sketching, drawing, and sculpting.  Even if I can't sculpt at school, I want to get back into sketching.

14. I'm leather bound! Well, not exactly, but I want to purchase a really nice leather cover journal without lines.  I've always wanted a leather journal to keep my ideas together.  I have notebooks and a laptop, but it's not classy or inspiring.  and I don't carry my laptop around everywhere.  I want to write something every day in this leather journal.  I'll get it after the first of the year when the stores allow it.

15. Glam it up: Photoshoots.  Got it?

This is all I can think of for now, but this will surely be updated.  If I'm still blogging this time next year, I'll see just how much I've done...

Snow, Skiing, Sisters

I just got back from an awesome ski vacation.  Snowshoe mountain has some kickass ski trails, and I got to use my new boots (nordica Hot Rods, high performance!) which makes a WORLD of difference.  Before, my boots were a size too small and caused major cramping in my feet, making skiing nearly impossible.  Which sucks for me, because the only thing I love more than dancing is skiing.  But with brand new boots and some magic skis, I'm skiing better than ever.  Wish I had some photos to share. Oh well.

On another note, I found my older sister's blog today, and within it, I found a recent post about a Dave Matthew's Band song called "sister."  I'm not an avid DMB fan, so I don't really know this song, but it was a touching blog post about....well, about me.  In it, she talked about how she recently realized all I did for her.  It really struck a chord with me, because we have the epitome of a roller-coaster relationship.  We're completely different people, which is perfectly normal, but it does occasionally cause problems.  I'm on the artsy, quirky, and silly side, and she's on the sporty, strong, and serious side, which is why she'll make an amazing teacher (and eventually parent) someday.  I, on the other hand, will hopefully still be a good mother, but I don't have the patience for high school kids (heck, I hated my high school).

Please understand, I adore her, look up to her, and am very thankful for all she taught me. And I'm ecstatic that she finally understands this and "appreciates everything [I've] done for [her]" as she says in her blog.  But I detest fighting, conflict, etc.

-------EDIT: There was an entire section here that I decided to remove.  It's not something I should say on the internet, even though nobody follows my blog...yet?  Anyway, on Christmas eve day, we had an up-front honest talk about our issues, getting them all out in the open.  It hurt to approach everything so directly, as I'm not used to it, and I hope that my sister and I can learn to bring up our problems gently and resolve them without any feelings hurt.------

Regardless, if you ever read this, know that I love you to pieces, and I don't want to fight anymore.  I'll try my best if you do too, that's all I can promise.

Love, 

Ally

The things they think, but don't tell you

Several times a week, a good friend of mine tells me she thinks I am drop dead gorgeous.  I have had many of my chicky-friends (female friends) tell me they think I am beautiful, pretty, etc. Rarely do I hear that from my male friends.  I've had boyfriends and potentials tell me on occasion that I am beautiful (two of them referred to me as sexy, which is rare, usually I get "adorable" from guys, which pisses me off a little), but I don't think any of my male friends will talk about the attractiveness of a girl unless they are interested in hooking up with her.

What kind of a line are they afraid to cross? So many women out there don't believe in just how beautiful they are because they never hear it from the men in their lives.  We women are trained by one another from a young age to be nurturing and loving and to tell everyone the things they want to hear.  Often, this gets us into a bit of trouble because we usually don't know when to shut up, which can be a very bad thing.  Anyhow, my question goes out to all of the men:
Why don't you just tell us if you think we look good?  It's not "Gay" to tell someone of either gender that their appearance is pleasing, it's a compliment.  Even if you're not interested in us as more than friends or acquaintances, just tell us.
Women, especially women like me (I have recently begun wondering if I am an alien...more on that later) enjoy flattery.  When we're comfortable with ourselves, it shows.

Men ask, why do women wear makeup when we look better without it?
Well guys, here's why I wear makeup even though I am aware of the fact that I am "pretty"
I wear it because it gives me confidence.  I know that when you're looking at me (and not at my breasts, eh hem...) and talking to me, you will likely be looking into my eyes.  I play up my eyes using various eyeshadows, eyeliners, and mascara to make my eyes more interesting than my breasts.  I'd prefer if you were listening to me rather than listening to my cleavage.
I wear makeup to be mysterious, playful, and yes, sometimes sexy.

But let me tell you, there are the lucky men who've seen me without a drop of makeup on, a horribly uneven tan, a retainer, glasses, pimples all over my face, looking like an average woman, not a goddess (that men often see us as), and they haven't cared.

To the Men: We women are not Goddesses, we are mere mortals.  We're fragile, but we will not break when handled, but to keep us in working order, we need a healthy dose of self love, which is easily facilitated by a simple compliment.

To be blatantly honest:

I am not a B cup.  I haven't been a B cup since I was at least 13 years old.  Possibly younger.  I've been large-breasted for much of my life.  So yesterday, when a good friend of mine told me the bra she had lent me for my halloween costume was a 38B (I had to make many modifications to this bra, it was very, very stretched out and very old, but once I had sewn it up a bit, it fit perfectly), I became very nervous.  Not that my breasts were actually smaller than I had originally thought, but that I was wearing the completely wrong bra size. Barenecessities.com gives a guide of how to measure your bra size, so I pulled out my tape measure and did some math.

My suspected bra size: 34D (though I know for a fact, I am a 32D, but it is rare to fine bras that are this size)
I measured the following:
Rib number = 31 (this was measured under my armpits and across the front part of my chest, not including my breasts) Which the website says to round up to 32, since a 31 bra is impossible.
Cup number = 33

By the calculations of the measuring guide, I should have 32A breasts, which is completely impossible. (i came up with this number by subtracting my rib number from my cup number.)
If I do not round, then my size is 32B.
Anyone who knows me can see that this is also very unlikely.
I distinctly remember trying on bras in Victoria's Secret with my sister when I was 14 or 15, a freshman in high school, and I needed a strapless bra to wear under my dance costume for the recital that year.  We went into the store and I picked out the size I thought I was: 34C.  When I went into the dressing room, I found that the bra was extremely uncomfortable, I was popping out of it, and I immediately began freaking out.  My sister brought me the next cup size up, the D, and poof, it fit perfectly.  I went home in tears.
I've since accepted that I am, in fact, my mother's daughter, and have inherited the Kurtz women's breasts.  However, things just don't add up to me being a B cup.  I could tolerate a C, definitely.  I would love to stay a C, bras are easy to find outside of specialty bra stores when they are 34Cs.  But what I don't understand is how I could possibly be a B cup when I haven't worn one for years?
I suppose I'll have to test this out when I go home for winter break in a few days.

I can't believe I just wrote a blog post about the size of my tits.  Shows I'm a helluva lot more comfortable with them now than I was 5 years ago.