![]() Sounds like this would work, right? The plan worked for a short distance, at the time, because much of the nation did not want to learn about us. The more we are seen the less fear and confusion people will have of us. He was normalizing the sight of a Muslim being in America. But for good reason! He believed that a good kid like me, wearing the hijab, would be proof enough for the kids and teachers at school to see that a nice girl is nothing like those people they were seeing on the news. I felt like my father was throwing me in the deep end with the sharks. I did not understand his logic at the time. At that time, I was 12-years-old when my father told me that I had to wear the hijab. Middle school is already scary and I started it with 9/11. When 9/11 happened, I was only a couple weeks into 6 th grade, middle school, the time where first crushes happen and cliques begin to form but to be abandoned by high school. My younger Muslim brothers and sisters, I have faced discrimination at an early age of my youth and I want to believe that things have become better for you since I was your age. you'll be surprised what you'll find out that you might have overlooked. So, give people chances introduce yourself get to know people past the first impression. I mean, doesn't all frosting taste the same anyway? (Leave it to me to use a food metaphor)īut the point is that even though I don't mind, and sometimes I even like, being known for these upper body passionfruits, I hope that people recognize that there might be a little bit more to me than the naturally-superfluous nature of my chest - the same way that there is more to that girl with the rolling backpack or the boy with the slim-rimmed glasses. No one is one thing we are all amalgamations of several vital virtues - we're just savory cakes, embellished with sprinkles and frosting, but containing a plethora of different ingredients that give them their true flavors. Let's define each other by our fascinations, relationships, senses of humor, or even our freakin' favorite foods. No one should be defined by their complexion, tone of voice, hair texture, skin pigment, clothing brands, freakin' winged-ness of their eyeliner, or any other negligible trait. So, maybe we could all make an effort to stop making quick judgements based on others' appearances. I want my first impression to be remembered by the content of my character, not the conspicuity of my cleavage. It ends up being the only thing that people remember about me. I would just like to be allowed to wear a tank top in August and not be criticized for looking like a naughty nympho from a video-game. you know, I'm just a college gal trying to be trendy, but when I follow trends, I either wear my size and look like a bimbo or wear a bigger size and look like a frumpy imbecile. But frankly, I just don't think that I can win. And I'll take some responsibility - I don't hide these sweater-stretchers at all. But I wish that my chest wasn't so noticeable. But as a whole, I think I give off the "probably-does-20-minutes-of-cardio-but-can-easily-eat-3-pieces-of-pizza" vibe. Yeah, the jiggles on my thighs could reach dangerous levels on the Richter scale and without 3 layers of sports bras, I can't exercise without giving the general public my own personal rendition of "Bounce It" by Juicy J. I mean, don't misunderstand: I love my body. But I would prefer to be known for something other than a simple act of engineering by God or for something that is not usually associated with porn, nipples, or lactation (ew). And don't get me wrong, sometimes I like being known. And as if these larger-than-life-shoulder-boulders weren't already a bother, to say the least, they end up being one of the most preeminent and recognizable definitions of my identity. Not only are they an evil to our fragile spines, but they are a true villain to our bank accounts, and the investments made are comparable to our grandma's table-cloth wrapped in enough underwire to construct an electric fence. Big boobs take up way too much space they make exercise an act of engineering, rather than fitness they, unfortunately, are a regular point of conversation they make everything I wear look like a Playboy campaign, and the boob-sweat could fry a batch of McDonalds french fries. And don't even get me started on going braless. strapless bras, bathing-suits, sports bras? Well, just forget about those. Of course, a busty chest is, first and foremost, inconvenient.
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