After winter must come spring/Change will come eventually–Lauryn Hill

Sometime last year I started feeling sad.

Where once I’d relished in its ridiculousness, life suddenly seemed unfunny. It became difficult to find things to write about and posting to this blog was more chore than choice.

I decided I was going through a quarter-life crisis. I felt I should get a tattoo and purple hair. I started listening to a lot of emo. I sent SORM e-mails expressing regret at all the weed I never smoked and all the promiscuous sex I never had while in college, when I could, when I was “free.”

Without divulging details that are too private for this public space, I want to acknowledge that this past year, I’ve been through a lot of shit–more shit than I’d ever been through before and more shit than I hope to go through again. The amount of crap I had to wade through makes the mountains of manure produced at the Kentucky Derby look like nothing.

In short, things were bad… But now they’re better.

In my time away from blogging I’ve been doing a lot of hippy introspection. As I’ve worked to learn me and love me, I’ve made some remarkable discoveries like: the unexamined life is not worth living, people only change when their present situation is more painful than what they’re afraid to face, and, most astoundingly, that I have boobs.

Yes boobs.

A recent trip to The Bra Specialist confirmed what I’d never suspected. I am not—as I’ve always assumed—an A cup. Rather I’m a fairly large B. And now, with the aid of my new mega bra, (which will henceforth be known as “Bralina”), I’m actually a near D.

Yes, that’s D for dizzam…

because my new boobs, they’re the bomb.

Seriously, this is life (and cleavage) altering stuff my friends.

From the girl who’s on the upswing of life, love, and lingerie, I bid you adieu.

xoxoh