Oh Shit

So, I'm leaving tomorrow and it really hasn't hit me yet. Foreign country, entire semester? Nope, not really sinking in. My poor family is bearing the brunt of my fear, though. God bless 'em. Each question they ask involves some new detail I haven't thought of yet. Which bank am I going to? Do I have to dial the country code if my cell phone number is the same? Where am I living? Okay, they are all fair questions and I should be able to answer all of them, but I am shockingly underprepared and every time they ask me something, my ineptitude is slapped in my face. So I've been a little snappy. I apologize. Though I have been learning valuable life lessons, and I haven't even left yet! For example, apparently I dress like a giant slut and no one has ever told me. I don't mean like a 9 foot-tall slut, but a particularly outrageous one. They're a bit more conservative in Mexico, and as I've been packing I have come to the realization that cleavage plays a vital role in every outfit I have ever worn. It's as if I'm afraid that nobody will know I'm a chick unless I have a giant, grand canyon-like line down my chest. Awesome. I'm hoping that's not a big problem, but I'm kind of expecting the worst. I've already been warned that male attention will be an issue, and as I re-evaluate my fashion sense, I now see that male attention is kind of the pot of gold at the end of my low-cut, v-neck skanky rainbow. These are the worries I'm focusing on. Not how to get pesos, but how to cover up my chesticles. I'm a class act. Hopefully I get out of the airport without being kidnapped and murdered, then maybe I can do another little entry. Peace out.