I am proud to own my shirt.

I finally ended up going on the shopping excursion I've been threatening for a few weeks now. It was a fabulous experience.

Shopping for guys clothes is a lot different from shopping for girls clothes. I had to pick up a whole new set of lingo, and I'm only just learning the language of girls clothes. (I can pretty much tell the difference between straight leg and boot cut now!) Guys clothes have a whole new language. It's pretty forking confusing.

If you're standing in the guys section, leafing through shirts and muttering to yourself, "Too small...too small...I can't be that small, can I...?" it's not that weird. You could conceivably be shopping for your brother. Or your boyfriend. Or a boy who happens to be your friend. It's not that weird.

If you're standing in the back, talking to the helpful guy (he had curly hair and really green eyes) and getting your arm measured for shirt sizes, that's when it starts getting weird. The guy seemed a little confused. I don't know why. He was just dealing with a teenage girl with a lot of hair trying to buy a mens dress shirt. It's not like people don't normally do that or anything.

Actually, I have a strong feeling a lot of the people around me while I shopped were freaked out. I randomly began talking to clothes as I looked at them on the racks as if they had feelings: "What size do you think you are?...Seven? What? Do you forking expect me to be a seven? Gosh!" ... "What size do you think you are?" Yeah, I don't have strange habits at all.

So. Insight into my fascinating life. I can't wait to blend in with my comrades, the men's basketball players.