Divorced Dating and Damn Drama by Kat Lehto

ask, trying not to sound mean, but come on. That is your question, out of all the questions in the world you chose to ask that one.
    "I'm a guy I'm allowed to have big thighs" Richard remarks.
    "Are they fat big thighs or muscle big thighs?" I asked. what? Now I am curious.
    "What's the difference?" He responds.
    "One is created by fries and the other by working out."
    "How as I supposed to know?" He shouts. "Quit judging me you fat heifer!"
    That night I sat in my room clutching my life line to the outside world, my phone. My delightful roommates have been having friends over all week, and I refuse to talk to them. It's not personal it's just that I don't want to be judged and critiqued by 18 year old perfectionists. I gather my ear plugs and put my phone under my pillow and drift off into a deep slumber. I suddenly awaken from my deep sleep by a shadowy figure staring at me inside my room. I can feel its eyes on me. What does it want? Is it friend or foe?
    I slowly raise my head to gaze upon a dark figure in my room. I sit motionless waiting for it to make its first move, for what seems like hours it stared at me. What does it want? My soul? Oh no, what if it's my car? If it wants my car I might have to literally fight to the death. I quickly pull out my phone and shine a light on it. Why, it was just the coat hanger from the hallway. Someone must have bought it in here to avoid it getting knocked over. Still the thought that someone was in my room while I was sleeping is disturbing. I should request a set of locks from Sara.

Chapter seventeen
    My ethnicity. Oh no, here comes the controversy. We all knew I would address this, now didn't we. What is my race? Oh good G od I don't know, how about American. Will that one work? No? Where were your born, they hound. My parents were born in America. No, no, they say, I mean where were your parents from? Umm let me think, America. Sometimes this line of interrogation goes on for a good while. So naturally I get pissed off and when I get really mad, I lie. Even when I tell them the truth they think I'm lying, but when I lie they think it's the truth. That's weird right? It's not just me. Right? I usually tell them, after they have pissed me off, that I am Russian. Roll that 'R". I'm Russian. That usually shuts them up. The funny thing is I don't even look Russian. I think people just want someone exotic. I have been told I look Asian. However, I don't see it.
    Why do I have short hair? Well that is a common question I get, and my hair is not that short, but anyways; to answer your question, my hair is short because I cut it. Like magic. My current hair style is a short cropped pixie cut. My hair has recently been dyed black thanks to Eddie's Discount hair dye, got it on sale for 57 cents. What a bargain! Their follow up question is if I will grow it out. Yes, I know men love long hair. I have had long hair and yes I did get a ton of attention. So I don't mind the questions, but I do mind when I inform them that I don't know if I will grow it out , they get pissed off. Like mental mad. To set the record straight, I will grow my hair out but only because I'm lazy with my hair. I don't like telling people about my hair plans. I don't feel that my hair length should be tied into a relationship. I'm not going to promise I will have long hair, because it takes time to grow out hair and I might want to cut it. I might not, but I might. And I feel, as I'm sure all of you do, that it's my hair my choice. I don't think anyone, man, woman or child, should dictate how long my hair will be. And this is why I'm alone... now we know...
    A woman my age, 27, gets asked the kid question a lot. Not just by my parents and friends, but strangers on the internet. Am I baby crazy? Is my clock ticking? Do I want to pop out a dozen just for the hell of it? Umm that's a tough one. I have to think about it. Umm... NO. Just because I'm 27 doesn't mean I'm looking to have a baby. It wouldn't hurt, but nope. I