Damn, DO NOT wear fishnets in the daytime. Some guy, an ice cream merchandiser it seems, hands you his card so you think, ohhhhkay and then he says "here is my car, with my number, call me sometime so we can go out, what is your name, Rose, you're very pretty?" and you just go, "Ok! Bye!" And you think he drives by you later, but you ignore him. Arg, getting hit on by boys in cars! And "hello pretty lady" old men, ick. And then you run into someone you think is cute, and he shows no evidence of noticing the abundance of secondary sexual characteristics you have on display. And you think to yourself ,"I should just ask 'Hey, do I look especially trashy today? Or what?'"

Ha ha, and the new Bust theme is 10th Anniversary/Gay Men We Love. I mean, I know I'm turning into the horrible stereotype of the qunitessential Bust reader, but this takes the cake, I mean PAUL LYNDE AND CHARLES NELSON REILLY??? Ha ha, but if the allegation that I am a gay man trapped in a lady's body is true, maybe I should just bring this up next time I see someone cute and then go into explicit sexual detail why. OH HANG ON, I'm not a gay boy, I've made out with girls (ha ha maybe I should bring THAT up next time I meet someone I fancy, I mean I keep getting asked by a zillion other boys "Did you two make out? It would be cool if you did.")

I think I'm ovulating. This explains the display of flesh (ask Desmond Morris!) and the feeling of being a walking timebomb.