Huh. Thanks.(I've still got the damn sweater, too)
Elliot: I thought I said discreet. Gwen: What, do you see nipple?
'Just Rewards (2)'
The Great Write Way, Chapter Two: Twice upon a time...
A place for Buffistas to discuss, beta and otherwise deal and dish on their non-fan fiction projects.
erikaj - Mar 03, 2005 9:01:55 am PST #361 of 10001
Always Anti-fascist!
Pix - Mar 03, 2005 9:02:34 am PST #362 of 10001
We're all getting played with, babe. -Weird Barbie
Powerful drabble, Erika.
erikaj - Mar 03, 2005 9:06:34 am PST #363 of 10001
Always Anti-fascist!
Thanks. Funny, though, probably the third one in which I've mentioned my late-arriving breasts. Hope y'all don't think I've got an obsession(much).
Pix - Mar 03, 2005 9:09:10 am PST #364 of 10001
We're all getting played with, babe. -Weird Barbie
Babe, I don't think I really hit puberty until I was about 16. I went from stick-skinny and flat to, "Huh...curves" in about two months. It was very disconcerting.
Beverly - Mar 03, 2005 9:11:38 am PST #365 of 10001
Days shrink and grow cold, sunlight through leaves is my song. Winter is long.
"Oh. Look at those."
Pix - Mar 03, 2005 9:12:57 am PST #366 of 10001
We're all getting played with, babe. -Weird Barbie
Pretty much. Training bras to a C cup. Poof.
ETA: Reminds me of that essay in that Susan Gilman book, though I think she went from flat to a DD.
Topic!Cindy - Mar 03, 2005 9:16:53 am PST #367 of 10001
What is even happening?
Me too, Kristin, although I was 12. I went through puberty so quickly I had stretch marks on my hips and breasts. It wasn't from fat, either.
OTOH, I didn't get a single stretch mark in any of my pregnancies, which just amazed my OB, for some reason.
erikaj - Mar 03, 2005 9:34:26 am PST #368 of 10001
Always Anti-fascist!
Yeah, sort of like "Slums of Beverly Hills."
Pix - Mar 03, 2005 9:39:35 am PST #369 of 10001
We're all getting played with, babe. -Weird Barbie
Yellow drabble #2:
I hate the way my palms sweat and my stomach jumps. I hate the way my heart pounds as the clickclickclickclick gets louder, the way the air feels colder. I hate the whiteness of my knuckles as I clench the bar and the way the fear builds in the long climb to the track’s zenith. I hate that I won't love every second, that my passion for speed is overthrown by my fear of falling. But, as I have done so many times before, I scrunch my eyes shut and try to remember to breathe.
I hate being yellow more.
deborah grabien - Mar 03, 2005 11:26:39 am PST #370 of 10001
It really doesn't matter. It's just an opinion. Don't worry about it. Not worth the hassle.
"Oh. Look at those."
Or, as Murphy Brown put it: "Why did I stop playing softball at puberty? Because suddenly, sliding into second HURT."
erika, Kristin, those are kickass.