Callum / Angie: Airport

I've never flown before. But I guess this is a week for firsts.

Whenever these girls were supposed to go back to Canada, that was a few weeks ago, but obviously they were smart enough to get a rain check or whatever. Roy figured that out for us. He's a good person to have on our side. I say "he," but obviously, he's one of the five of us who became chicks. I saw him around the Inn but I didn't talk to him or anything. Still, he had more of a handle on the situation than the rest of us, so we're relying on him to get us to our new "home." I can tell James and Derek don't really like him because they're questioning everything he says to do, but they're probably just still angry about the situation.

I can't say I'm OKAY, but angry isn't the right word. We don't have time to be angry, we don't have that luxury. We're in the deep end, so we have to learn to swim. The sooner we get our shit together... I don't know. Maybe we don't even have to get our shit together. Maybe it doesn't matter if we wreck these lives, if that's what we want, if that's how it goes. But I feel a strong urge to do whatever anyone tells me right now.

What I do know is that it's 90 degrees here and I'm sweating profusely under my breasts. They are cooped up in a confining, tight, non-breathing bra with an underwire jabbing my ribs and causing the heat to bottle under them, and irritate my shoulders under the straps. If I could air these things out I would love that. I'm only wearing a tank top and short shorts... in fact that seems to be the outfit we've all opted for, since all the girls traveled with at least those items. We must look like quite a sight, five reasonably attractive women all slouched over and gritting their teeth and grabbing at their boobs and adjusting themselves in their seats. I guess these bodies are ours to grab and adjust and do whatever we see fit, so whatever the others have done or seen overnight, that's their business. Trish has kept quiet. I can't even picture the lanky, deep-voiced guy, Robbie, as being the dainty girl she had been, but there you go.

UPDATE: I snuck off to the washroom, unclasped my bra and stuffed it in my purse. I'm just gonna let them hang for a while. Feels nice.

The flight is in an hour. It's a 6 hour flight across 3 time zones, which means... I guess we'll all be tired and miserable when we get there. We're all tired and miserable now. I want to throw up. It's too much to handle. I keep feeling like I forgot something.

-Callum