Two years ago, I mentioned the idea I had for my bedroom once after the renovation was completed (god, remember those renovation days!? No? Ok.):

I want my bedroom to scream…ohhh I don’t know…five-year-old girl with a sick and twisted fucked-up mind? Mebbe. I bought a bedroom set that’s actually meant for younger girls (lol);  it’s really adorable, has a pure cottage-vintagey taste to it, however, I’m planning to add certain things that will add a touch of creepiness to it, just a touch (An understatement? Mebbe).

And I’m thinking, geez! I don’t think I’ve EVER followed up on the progress of my bedroom here. I cleaned my room big time today so I can take photos of them just to show you guys. Well, I took the photos and now I’m thinking, geez! Maybe I shouldn’t have cleaned up like a goddamn pro because now everything looks so washed out.

(Note to self: A bit of a mess can add a lot of character to your bedroom, dolt!)

Before I show you, I’d like to add that I like my bedroom a lot–I think it perfectly encapsulates who I am. Even though it has been two years, the bedroom is far from being complete (work, money, school and stress had a little something to do with it). I don’t think it’ll ever be “finished” too–I plan to keep adding and modifying until I have to get married or something (I don’t think my future husband would want to sleep in thar =/).

I also really like how most people get the same reaction when they visit my bedroom for the first time. At first glance, you’d probably see my bedroom as something that comes off a little too innocent (or perhaps a little too young) and overwhelmingly girly, when viewing the room as a whole.  When you notice the details on the other hand, it uh…doesn’t exactly scream sunshine, cupcake sprinkles and little ponies (slay them all! UNICORN POWER).

People who don’t “get it” (aka family) surprisingly gets pretty creeped out by my room. I think there’s humor in what is displayed, but if it has that kind of affect on people, then my job here is done. =)

Here are the photos! (More after the jump)

It has a bed, desk and stuff

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Jules, that one talented MAC makeup artist who always gets to turn my face into a hot and sexy beast, is doing me a huge favor by doing my makeup once more for a Lady Gaga concert I am going to attend tomorrow.

The face a mother can't even love

As seen in the photos, Jules was doing a “makeup test run” before the big day.  Since we planned to go to dinner right after, she told me that I HAD to keep the makeup on for all the hard work she’s done.  HA! And I did. We went to a seafood/crawfish restaurant while I had the skull face. When we arrived, there were (obviously) a lot of stares. Kids couldn’t stop pointing at me to their parents–but thank god none of the kids were crying. Some even took photos of me without my consent like I was a walking tourist attraction. The teenage girls who walked passed me couldn’t stop giggling. And one waitress asked me if I was at Disneyland prior to this.

The attention I had garnered throughout the night didn’t really bother me as much as my mom’s reaction. Apparently, when she saw the photos of me in the skull makeup, she told my sister that she will pray for me. This really chapped my ass for so many reasons you wouldn’t even believe.

It wasn’t the first time she had overreacted either;  once I made myself look like a zombie (a really cool one too) for a non-Halloween occasion and mom nearly disowned me, constantly asking herself what kind of food she ate while she was pregnant with me that might’ve caused me to “be this way”.

I was born this way...a tuxedo-wearing-skull-faced-individual that is.

My mom has gotten herself pretty convinced that she has the worst daughter in the world, simply because I’m into “monsters” and dressing up as them. I mean, hey let’s be “fair” and “reasonable” here by COMPLETELY forgetting if there are any bad habits or behaviors that accompany this (and there aren’t).

I’m not saying I’m a perfect little angel, but I can assure you that I’m a pretty darn good kid overall–and I can think of a long list that’s far more worse than painting your face for a fun, once-in-a-blue-moon occasion.

Luckily, I’m a young adult now so her opinions don’t really affect me anymore. However, I’d really like to say that if you do have a teenager at home, don’t focus on the little things that may upset you such as your child wearing black or painting a skull face! Ask yourself if there are any negative behaviors accompanying it. So look at the big picture before you decide to jump and tackle every taste, policy or low-level-risk-taking adventure, or else you run the risk of failing an important goal as a parent, which is to let your kid develop a unique and healthy identity…because you were BORN THIS WAY baby!

(Yeah, sorry about the last part, I’m just excited about the concert!)

Shopping for bras yesterday really confirmed my aversion to them and especially how they’re made for women with very small cup sizes.

Here’s my dilemma:  Every bra is too big for me. Every bra is too big for me. And please note, no disrespect to women and girls who have a bigger size than I do (which is probably everybody) but I’m satisfied with what I have, thus I don’t feel the need to enhance them.

But that wasn’t the case back in middle school because I hated the size of my chest. It seemed like every girl I knew had already developed a pair of huge knockers; it didn’t help that the boys picked on me for it either–actually I remembered one instance where two boys during lunch break were going around asking girls “How’s it hangin’?” “Hey, how’s it hangin?” “How’s it hangin?” Obviously it being their chest. When they went up to me, one boy asked the usual “How’s it hangin?” But this time, the other boy added “WHAT’S hangin?” Haha. It’s funny to me now, but at the time that it happened, it really puts a damper on how you view yourself.

This resulted in a lot of…”stuffage”.  I use to stuff everything in bra. Foam, tissue, cotton wads, paper, you name it. Most of the time it didn’t look natural but I kept on stuffing away. I also tried to gain a lot of weight, but the “fat” never seemed to want to go to the chest area. Looking back, it’s pretty freagin’ ridiculous on the lengths I go through just to get bigger breasts.

I was not entirely comfortable with my size until I hit senior year of high school, but the whole process wasn’t easy. As an adolescent, how can you be satisfied with yourself when none of the bras could fit you because all of them were too big? Does this mean I’m not normal? Does my chest not meet the standards?

I decided to go bra-shopping the other day because I really hate my bras. There’s generally a large gap between my bra and chest, and you can really feel it when you wear them. It also looks funny every time I wear a tighter shirt or a tank top. Due to the complexity of my size (lawl) I ended up going to four different stores yesterday to find bras and the ones that were the closest to my size had crazy padding in them. I don’t mind so much of a slight padding ’cause well, who really wants to see me in a fitted shirt on a chilly day? I just don’t want it to be completely obvious and completely deceiving of what my true size is. So I came home empty-handed.

What I’d like to know is just how can you be comfortable in your own skin when all of the bras that barely fits you comes with padding? Who is to blame or should we even blame? Should it be the company who manufactures the bras, because they’re simply assuming that every woman who has a smaller size wants to get them bigger? Or is it the women who buys them?