A Problem That You Have Had.
First of all, let it be known that I do not like this one.
But since I am awake and have the time to write something, I’ll rise to the challenge… sort of.
Size 8 jeans are a massive struggle for me to get into.
Size 10 jeans are usually too big, by a margin considerable enough for it to be impossible for me to ignore and get over their too-big-ness.
Belts, even the ‘small’ ones, do not fit me properly; There’s always too much left over, which just looks stupid.
I could eat The World and not put on more than maybe a couple of pounds.
My hair grows all wrong, so that there does not exist a style which it will do properly – or a way for it to look remotely attractive. Even when I was little, it wouldn’t do plaits or pigtails or even a simple ponytail properly. I think this is why I decided at some point not to even bother trying to be a proper girl.
I had a tendency, through school, to develop undying crushes on guys whom I not only would pretty much never speak to, but whom none of my friends could even vaguely understand my obsessions with. Silent, Secret Agony.
I have no boobies. I would really prefer to have some of those. (I’m not stupid enough to even contemplate getting fake ones, don’t worry). I feel like a lot of years of my life would have been a lot less silently secretly agonizing if I’d just grown a pair of those at some point. (This fact probably played into at least one of the above, too).
My list of first world problems probably goes on and on, but I am tired and my brain isn’t working properly.