Dear Philothea

I am SO sick of being called sexy, of being whistled at, of being told I look fine, of being told that I'm hot, of being told that I have great curves, etc. Excuse me, but have any of you Washburn people thought that I'm maybe struggling with vanity and that those comments (do) (not) (help)? No, you haven't. I do NOT want to be placed in the position of being worried about how I look to people. It doesn't matter. As long as I groom myself properly, dress modestly, and don't belch in your face, I know I am perfectly fine. I do NOT need your reassurance on the matter that God blessed me with a particular beauty. Thank you very much. Now stop. The end. Period. The matter is OVER.

No, never mind. It's not. I do my very, very best to dress modestly, and guys still can't straighten up their act. I threw away almost my entire wardrobe a little over a year ago just for the sake of being modest. WHERE IS THE RESPECT, PEOPLE?!

And this isn't even the guys' fault. It's the adults. Guys seemed to have been raised to treat women like sex objects. And why shouldn't they? Guess what's constantly being thrown in their faces day in and day out? Women who dress like SEX OBJECTS. The generation before us FAILED. They failed us in so many ways, and we're going to fail our next generation if we don't clean up our act.

In other news: my college history class prohibited me from getting a 4.0 GPA. Four A's and a B+ later, I come out with...Uh, I don't know. What's my GPA? Does it matter? Not really. Who cares? Me. Yeah, that's been figured out by now. I'm such a little perfectionist. And you know what perfectionism means--pride. Hmm mmm. Way to go, Brittany.

I'm actually not in a bad mood. I just woke up from a nap, and waking up from a nap always makes you semi-grumpy because your sleep cycle was interrupted. Anyway, I sat straight up and decided to blog about my feelings towards guys. And now I have. Cornell notes are awaiting me. I do not want to do them. I must, however. Le sigh.

Farewell.