Confession- Yesterday I wore a crop top for the first time.
Yesterday was a gorgeous, hot Saturday in the bustling city of Hipsterville. It was a perfect 86 degrees, I gave zero shits about finals week, and I was looking for a good time. There was a festival, a massive influx of tourists, and an amazing opportunity to enjoy my last weekend as a undergrad. Savannah and I decided to hit the town and I decided a crop top would perfectly encompass and communicate my youthful enthusiasm for fun and summer.
Confession #2- One of the only reasons I even bought said crop top is because it is one of the only articles of clothing that has a neckline high enough not only in the front, but also in the back, to cover my the unfortunate situation that is my skin. Devastated by eczema, by chest and back are constantly covered in rashes and welts.
Over the course of the next 6 hours, I had the most interesting experiences. First of all, Savannah and I hit up the festival. As you can somewhat see in the photo, I devoured a turkey leg like the good little carnivore I am and we walked around, explored, and ventured into the interesting street vendor tents and bars. I have never been obviously gawked at in my life. I honestly thought there was something in my face, stuck to my shoe, I had no idea. Then it dawned on me; it was the crop top.
Two inches of skin drew all of the attention… and it didn’t stop there.
Later, Nadia joined Savannah and I and we hit up my favorite street of dive bars and outdoor music venues. Now, it had gotten slightly chilly so at this point I added a cardigan to the outfit. So now the two inches of skin was only existent from the front. But that made little difference.
Not only did I experience a variety of stares, gawking, and both welcomed and unwelcome conversations from men, I also experienced all of the hatred, glares, and stink faces from women. Lots of side-eye. Lots of head-to-toe glances. I honestly was no longer comfortable in my clothes, but I was so fascinated by the difference these two inches were making that I didn’t even care.
Towards the end of our night out at the bars, I even got asked on a date. Like, a real one. A nice, older (27-28ish year-old) named Austin who runs a local start up invited me to a picnic lunch and paddle boarding today. I agreed and we exchanged numbers but, caught up in the excitement and nerves, I accidentally double booked myself and later had to change the time on him. That eventually led to changing of the day and he now wants to “take me to a nice dinner” on Wednesday. We’ll see.
Nadia had the quote of the night though! It was gold. Some annoying drunk dude plopped his drunken ass in a chair next to her and started chatting her up. For some reason the conversation moved to a local city about 3 hours away from Hipsterville. “Whats your favorite thing about that city?” he slurred.
“Probably that my boyfriend lives there”.
YASS! Nadia for the win!
After the bars, I dropped by Molley’s midnight 21st birthday celebration at a local restaurant, famous for their margaritas. I was so excited to have the chance to go. I originally bowed out of attending because Dexter was going. I know, it sounds immature. I honestly could sit at a table with him and other people and be just fine, not kill him, not be ugly or rude, and get through it. But if I can avoid breathing the same air as him, I’m going to. It’s as if he exhales toxins and poisons that creep through the air, seep into my lungs, and fills me with negativity.
I have succeeded in having a good last semester, maintaining friendships, and have led a whole and healthy life. Honestly, Dexter is not even a problem in my life, he is a simply a nuisance with his mopey body language and “depression”. Nothing like a near family catastrophe to put your “problems” into perspective…
Anyways, Dexter ended up not going to the dinner so I no longer had to stand up Molley, who I adore.
So I walked up on the large table of people celebrating with her and well, honestly, I felt like I just walked into my grandmother’s church in a crop top… There was so much shade thrown, you would’ve thought I was an tan-fearing Asian woman with an umbrella. One girl literally got up from the table and disappeared, probably to the bathroom, about 45 seconds after my arrival. Granted, I’m sure it was a valid bathroom break, but you could still cut the tension with a knife.
A mistress was there, that’s always a joy. I expect the shade to be thrown from her, except wait not really–you’re the one that fucked a guy with a girlfriend so… I don’t have anything be ashamed of. What, did you expect me to play Ring Around the Rosie with you?
Eventually I felt so uncomfortable that I made my excuses and left. On my way out I hugged someone goodbye and one of the queens of shade-throwing who was sitting next to her turned my way, “Make good choices tonight!” she hissed through her teeth.
Um, ok thanks Mom, I’ll be sure to do that. What are you, two months older than me? My brain screamed. I was sober, I was driving!
Oh but didn’t you know?! Two inches of stomach automatically equates to being drunk and having an inability to make good “choices”!
Anyways, I don’t think the crop top will be making anymore appearances. Although it provided me with an interesting night and stories, it ultimately left me frustrated and annoyed.