The Loft
Oh, my God.
My life is totally OVER.
I'm serious this time. Dead serious.
So serious that I think I'll better cheer myself up before I try to explain. I need some moral support.
REASONS WHY I, MIA THERMOPOLIS, AM LUCKY
1. Firstly, before I even start this list, I should say that I have all the creature comforts an average American teenage girl in an urban environment could want or need, and I'm way better off than all those starving children in Uganda or whatever.
2. I have a totally perfect boyfriend, and we've been going out for a year now. So Michael is my best friend's brother, which kind of bites because whenever I see him Lilly's there and whenever I kiss him she's muttering about more complex face-sucking rituals even though she and Boris do it all the time in front of me and I'm never grossed out. Anyway, Michael is completely perfect and I love him and he loves me even though he's at Columbia where all the girls have IQs of about a gazillion and I'm just a lowly sophomore who has a C+ average in Geometry.
3. Pertaining to the last part of subject #2--I am doing infinitely better in Geometry than Algebra, although C+ isn't wonderful. Better than a D, though.
4. I have an absolutely, adorably wonderful little 5-month-old sister named Ana (really Diana, after the princess, but we call her Ana. Mom named her Diana because she said then she'd have her two little princesses. But seeing how I turned out, I'm still puzzling over why she would want another). She's the BEST. I talk to her about the sad condition of the environment and give her all my outgrown Greenpeace and Save The Whales shirts. I'm proud to announce that she hasn't touched meat in her tiny little life yet (except when she was in the womb, when my mom had some fetish for nearly-raw steak packed with chemical hormone enhancers that probably could have harmed a developing fetus). Okay, so she is my Algebra teacher's baby. Hopefully, that proves that she is better at math then my mom and I. Although I asked her what the quadratic formula was this morning, and she said "Gah," which, needless to say, isn't too promising.
5. I now, for the first time in my life, have use for a bra. Yes, I am growing something that looks remotely like a chest. All of my clingy-er shirts, designed for people with lack of mammary glands, are starting to get a little tight around the bust. This new development will make me look loads better in those dresses my cousin Stephano designs for me to wear to state dinners and balls and such, as I am the heir to the small European principality of Genovia (plus they won't have to take it in about 3 feet at the chest, which is always horribly embarrassing).
6. My Grandmère, dowager princess of said Europian principality and maker of my life a semi-living hell for 9 months, left right after Ana was born (toting me along with her for the summer holidays, of course) back to Genovia. I have now been enjoying 3--count them, 3--Grandmère-free months.
Well, the list worked--right up until number six, when I got into full detail about Genovia and Grandmère. Then I got all depressed again.
You wanna know why my life is over? I'll tell you: Grandmère wants to coronate me this summer.
THIS SUMMER.
And you know what that means, don't you. It means that by this time next year, I'll be performing all duties required for a princess, including living in Genovia.
LIVING IN GENOVIA.
Now you see why my life is over.
I can't write anymore, I'm too upset.