Imagine…
Imagine: cutting up an old tee from your favorite band so that it hangs above your flat stomach and dips so low that your collarbones stick out.
Imagine: spending a bunch of money on something super cute to wear to the concert because you’re oozing confidence and you can totally pull off those fishnets.
Imagine: having all the boys stare at you as you walk past because you’re the hottest girl at the show.
Imagine: smiling as the merch guy has to dig through all the boxes to find an XS shirt, since that’s all that fits you.
Imagine: being able to slip your shirt off right there in front of everyone to put on your new band tee, not giving a shit who sees your slim stomach and slender arms.
Imagine: being able to sit on your friend’s shoulders to get a better view and knowing you’re not hurting them because how could you? You’re light as air.
Imagine: effortlessly crowd surfing; getting tossed around like a rag doll because you’re so tiny.
Imagine: squeezing and worming and slipping your way up to the barrier, where you can see everything on stage.
Imagine: the vocalist scanning the crowd and stopping on you, smiling because he’s awestruck by the super hot girl in the front row screaming the lyrics to every song.
Imagine: meeting the band after the show and taking a ton of cute pictures. You smile as they hug you tightly, slip their arm around your waist and set their hands on your sharp hip bones. The drummer even picks you up for a photo, and it’s effortless.
Imagine: seeing them again a year and a half later and them remembering you, remembering your name because who could forget the bombshell that crowd surfed and looked stunning doing it?
Imagine: concerts at your goal weight.
petitella