Leigh allyn baker cup size

Hi! I’m excited to have found this community as I cannot find a bra that fits The problem is I have a wide ribcage but very little volume
My measurements are Loose under bust 39inch Snug under bust 38.5inch Tightens 35inch Standing bust 44inch Leaning bust 46inch Laying down 43inch
It recommended a 38G (us sizing) but that just seems like wayyyyyy to much volume in the cup
I’d appreciate any help Thanks

I am 22. Joined swimming classes and I will require a cup but I am unsure about the size. Can someone help me with this? Small, medium or large?

[Part 1]
Day 3
I woke the next morning from the sunshine in my eyes. My head was resting ever so slightly on Eli's arm as we had both fallen asleep on my bed after I begged him to stay. I blanched in horror at the drool stain I had left on the arm of his white t-shirt.
I began to slowly move myself and retreat downstairs as the memories of the night before came flooding back. How I had broken, screaming in terror, and how Eli had saved me, not knowing the true reason he found me curled up on the floor crying.
As I stepped off the bed, my leg got snagged in the frilly bed cover, and I went crashing to the ground, making quite the noise as I landed. With a yawn, Eli's eyes opened, and I felt myself blushing as he turned to look at me.
We both kind of stared at each other for a moment, not speaking. Eli opened his mouth, then closed it again as if unsure of what to say.
"Coffee?" I asked quickly, filling the awkwardness of our situation.
"Please," Eli said, smiling.
In minutes, I had a pot brewing as I leaned against the kitchen counter. Eli was picking up the scattered photographs from the floor and looking at them quizzically.
"Why do you have pictures of the Harmons?" Eli asked, showing me the photos of the yellow-haired man and his family.
"Is that their names? I found them out in the barn under a blanket," I answered as I rooted around the cupboards for two mugs.
"In the barn? I cleaned it out just last week. No way I would have missed this trunk," Eli said while examining the wooden trunk with its simple rustic hinges. It was plain and unadorned with any embellishments. Basic as basic could be.
"Well, you must have missed it because it was there," I said, putting emphasis on the "was" in a way that reminded me of my mother chastising my father.
"That's so weird," he said, shifting through the photos while sitting at the table. I brought him a cup of coffee and sugar, and he began absentmindedly adding a lot of sugar to his coffee. About six scoops later, he began stirring and sipping it.
"Well, anyways, thanks for coming last night. I wasn't myself, I hope you know that I'm not some damsel in distress," I said quickly, like word vomit, and I even chuckled at the end, feeling like a total weirdo.
"What happened anyway? You didn't say last night," he said, putting the photos down in a jumble on the table.
I paused for a moment, considering how to answer. As I sipped my coffee, I stared out into the yard beside the barn where the scarecrow stood, glancing around the edge of the barn, hanging limply in his hole. His appearance once again sad and dejected instead of murderous and terrifying.
"I was just scared, I had a nightmare, and it just scared me," I said dumbly, trying not to turn crimson again under his intense gaze.
His eyes seemed to cut right through my lie, as if he were staring directly into my being before he simply glanced away out the window. We fell silent again, and I filled some moments by sipping my drink. It seemed to revitalize me; the sun and the company made me feel secure.
"Why were you here anyways?" I asked after a moment.
"I heard screaming, so I came running. I live just on the other side of the grass there, behind the barn," Eli said, pointing to the barn out the window.
"Must be really close, I didn't see any houses on the way in," I said, prying deeper into the situation.
"It's actually a trailer, maybe like two hundred yards from here. I was outside getting some air when I heard you scream. So, I came running," Eli said, finishing his cup of coffee and placing it in between us like a barrier, as if he was hiding something.
"Could you, uh, not do that?" Eli asked, with an uncertain grin on his face.
"What am I doing exactly?" I asked, startled for a moment, my stomach doing a sort of flip.
"It's just that you like stare at people. You've been staring at me for like my whole cup of coffee, I don't think you blinked the whole time," Eli said, averting his eyes shyly.
"No, I don't," I said until I realized he was right. I never noticed that about myself.
"Right, well, I've got to go. I am probably going to start painting today, so you might see me in a bit," Eli said, rising and heading to the door.
"Wait," I said, grabbing his arm for only a moment before releasing it like it was scalding hot.
Eli glanced at my hand for a moment, then at his arm, before he, too, blushed crimson.
"I just wanted to say thank you again. For last night, I mean. Well, what I mean is I appreciate it," I said, my eyes downcast in, for some reason, shame. Like he had seen me at my weakest and it weighed on my gaze appropriately.
"It was nothing, besides I didn't get much sleep with your constant snoring," Eli said, laughing at me.
"I so don't snore," I said, swatting at him but unable to control a smile creeping up onto my face.
After Eli left, I felt instantly colder, my eyes kept returning to the scarecrow. I grabbed my camera from upstairs and went out to the yard. I scanned the dirt for anything out of the ordinary. There was no blood, or anything on the dirt where the scarecrow stood just last night. I slowly made my way to the scarecrow, but nothing happened. I snapped a photo of the inanimate object, and it didn't even flinch. I poked it, but all I felt was straw underneath its clothes. I removed its mask, expecting a severed head, but it was just straw. Nothing was here but straw. I dropped the mask on the ground and took another photo proving it was just straw and nothing else.
An idea struck me as I regarded the source of my torment. If I planned to stay even one more night here, I needed to do something about this scarecrow. I rooted around in the barn, a series of tools hung from nails in the wall. On one hung what I was searching for. An old rusted shovel with a dirty wooden handle that was worn smooth from use.
I returned to the side of the barn beside the scarecrow, knowing for whatever reason this thing only came when night fell and didn't react at all when I moved or touched it during the day.
Before my morning coffee had even settled, I began to dig at the dusty earth, loose and easy to dig, it came away in shovelfuls. Within an hour, I had a fair-sized hole in front of me. Sweat dripped from my brow, and when I wiped under my eyes, they came away black from last night's makeup. Glancing at the field of grass and knowing Eli could appear at any time, I decided to head inside and shower. The hot water was a godsend, and I lingered for longer, letting the water drain down my head and back, my eyes closed, trying to forget the images from the last two nights. I should just pack up my car and leave right this minute. But how could I explain this to my family? I decided to go through with my plan and bury the scarecrow. I could last one more night if I prepared for it.
I left the shower and dressed modestly, in another one of my old rock t-shirts and a pair of shorts. I returned to the yard and with a satisfying push, I dropped the scarecrow into the pit. It fell with a nice thud, and I smiled at my power over it in the day; it's just at night when I should fear it.
As I threw the first shovel of dirt back on top, I heard a noise in the grass, and it parted, revealing Eli wearing the same pair of jeans and work boots, but he had changed his shirt to a plain black one. In each hand, he held cans of paint and a brush.
"Should I even ask why you are burying that old scarecrow?" He asked as he came to stand beside me.
"Probably best if you didn't," I admitted, leaning on the shovel.
"Well, I'm going to anyway. Polly, why are you burying that old scarecrow?" He asked, a rare smile coming to his face.
"Because it's been haunting me at night," I said bluntly.
"Mhm, yeah, okay. Fine, don't tell me. I've been meaning to get rid of it anyway, but normal people take things to the landfill," Eli said with a smirk as he turned to the house and began setting up for his painting.
I finished burying the scarecrow and stomped the dirt down flat. I finished my job by moving my car and parking it directly over top of the spot where I buried it.
Eli watched me curiously but didn't remark. I returned the shovel to the barn and went out into the yard. I decided to go for a hike around the property. I needed some time alone to think and unwind.
As I made my way through the grass, it began to confuse me. This had obviously been a large farmland, but how had the wild plants grown in such a thick, endless maze of greenery?
It gave me an eerie feeling, like I was being watched as the grass covered three-quarters of my body, like there would be something lurking out in the grass, crouched low, waiting for me.
After a half-hour or so, I came upon a clear lake, only big enough to be considered an old swimming hole, I thought as I dipped my hand into the cool water.
I took off my outer clothes and decided to go for a swim. I lowered myself in slowly and reveled at the cool water. The pond wasn't deep, but the water was clean. A small rope swing had been hung from a large oak tree that bordered the pond. It also provided a nice layer of shade that made it the ideal spot to spend the day. I floated on my back in the water for what seemed like hours. The day seemed to slip away from me. A small beach of sand sat at one side of the pond, so I lay out in the sun and closed my eyes. The warm day warmed my soul, and soon I felt myself drifting off into sleep.
I awoke to the sound of crickets and darkness. I couldn't believe it. I had slept through the day; the long nights had finally caught up to me, and now I was stuck far away from the farmhouse. I didn't know if my plan with the scarecrow had worked, and this wasn't the place to test my theory.
A full moon lay overhead, casting a silvery glow on the world before me. A sea of grass swayed gently in the wind, sending shivers down it in shuddering waves. I looked around, but I was thankfully alone, just the crickets chirping along melodically as my only companions.
I had to make it back to the house, so I started on my way, my hands trailing along the tall grass. The pale light played easily on the deep green grass. Step by step, I made my way back towards the farmhouse and the barn, throwing caution to the wind, and I started to jog along, anything to get back faster. I would have to find Eli; maybe if we were together, he could stop it like before.
If I thought the field was creepy during the day, by night, it was a whole new world. Every sound made my heart stop for a beat before restarting in protest. When all of a sudden, the crickets stopped chirping. I dropped to my knees, letting the long grass cover me from sight. Through the strands, I could make out a shape moving slowly through the tall grass, the swish of the plants as it made its passage through them. My heart dropped. Was this Eli looking for me, or was it the scarecrow come for me?
That's when I heard a voice, a voice cutting through the silence. It started off quiet and raspy as it sang an eerie children's song.
"Did you, did you, did you come for me?
Run and hide, don't you know that I seek
The world it claims that I be not clean
When I come, you'll see how filthy I can be.
Tonight, it is happening, tonight you'll see
Beneath the moon, my shadows they do creep.
In this world, at night I shall be free.
Tonight it's happening, tonight you'll see.
When I come, you had better flee, or else I'll come and give my filth to thee."
I was frozen to the spot. It hadn't found me, but it knew I was in the grass somewhere. Now, with each word, chewed up and spat out like it was unhappy with it, now it was accompanied by the whistle of something in the air and a slicing sound as it cut through the grass around me.
It finished another round of its song, but now it stood within feet of me, its blade whistling as it cut. I took a moment to ready myself, and as it raised its blade to cut through the grass I hid in, I dashed out of my hiding spot and slammed into it. But nothing resisted me; I fell through it like it was a ghost.
In a tangle of limbs, I landed hard on the ground and tried quickly rolling to my feet. The blade of its weapon pierced the earth beside me. Now I could see it was a two-handed scythe the scarecrow carried, but something was off, its hands were human. Pale milky skin like a newborn baby. I had little time to examine the creature except for the canvas bag over its head. Two large black eyes came out of the slits that leaked a dark red blood like tears.
It screeched loudly and swung its scythe, but it was slow, and I took off through the grass in the direction of what I hoped was the farmhouse.
I completely gave up all pretense of hiding and sprinted as fast as I could without looking back. The grass seemed to part for me as I ran in terror. I was just glad that in high school, I had taken track as it was paying off now.
I could hear the noise of footsteps behind me, but I never turned. I ran and ran until my lungs felt like they were going to burst Something silver flashed to my left, and I tripped over something hard and unexpected. The wind was driven from my lungs as my chin slammed hard into the earth. I scrambled back, trying to escape, but the scarecrow was on me, its blade flashing angrily in the pale moonlight.
I wanted to move, I wanted to fight, but my body was weak and unable to catch its breath, and I lay there helpless as it swung its scythe towards me. I closed my eyes in fear, but I only heard the thud of dirt before I opened my eyes. The scythe was discarded, and the scarecrow stood staring at me.
It seemed to be struggling with something, one hand reached out towards me only to be snapped back to its side. A roar of rage pierced the canvas sack over its head as it struggled against its invisible bonds. For a moment, I thought I saw something behind it, three sets of hands holding it back. One feminine in nature, and the other two must have belonged to children. In a flash, I saw a beautiful woman who looked vaguely familiar with her long brown hair and plain dress.
"Run," she moaned as the scarecrow swung around wildly.
I didn't hesitate and fled, my breath had returned, and while my body still ached from my fall, I powered on, knowing this was the only respite I would receive tonight.
In the distance, I could see a small sheet metal shape; Eli's trailer was slowly coming closer as I ran, and I beelined it for the trailer. I could hear the footsteps behind me again as the scarecrow resumed its chase after me.
I reached the old trailer and banged on the door as loud as I could; I rattled the handle, but it was locked.
"Eli, it's me. It's Polly, please let me in. Please," I begged as I banged over and over again on the door of his trailer.
Nothing responded to me, and the trailer was dark. The single window in the back held no life inside the trailer. From the trailer, I couldn't tell which direction the farmhouse was in the dark, so I fled into the tall grass and crouched low, watching the clearing around the trailer.
While I caught my breath, I watched the scarecrow enter the clearing, its scythe back in its hand as it circled the trailer. When its raspy voice began singing again low and quiet, only loud enough for me to hear.
"Did you, did you, did you come for me?
Run and hide, don't you know that I seek
The world it claims that I be not clean
When I come, you'll see how filthy I can be.
Tonight, it is happening, tonight you'll see
Beneath the moon, my shadows they do creep.
In this world, at night, I shall be free.
Tonight it's happening, tonight you'll see.
When I come, you had better flee, or else I'll come and give my filth to thee."
The song made me shiver uncontrollably at the lyrics and the voice; it sounded demented like a crazy person letting their demons out into a nursery rhyme.
I lay perfectly still; for some reason, it couldn't find me. This creature I assumed was all-knowing seemed to have some very human weaknesses. It moved and talked like a human, even had certain body parts that were from a human; it even felt human the way it chased and reacted.
The scarecrow moved on through the tall grass, and I let out a sigh of relief as it lost my trail. How terrifying that beast was. In my pocket was the keys to my car. Eli had told me that the farmhouse was fairly close to his trailer. I had to navigate to the car, then drive as fast as I can away from this place. The fact that I hadn't left already because I was worried about money was insane. Who cares, I could drive to Barb's and demand my money back. Go home and just tell my parents the truth. The whole reason for actually leaving home this summer, why I was actually here in this field shivering uncontrollably in fear. But I couldn't think about that now, not now, there will be time to deal with that later. Now I needed to focus on staying alive, getting to the car, and getting out of here.
I went in the direction the scarecrow had; he knew the land better than I did, and every noise I made in the silence of the night made my heart drop. It took all my courage there and then to take one step forward, then another. I felt like I was going to be sick; my stomach was in knots to where it felt like even if I was sick, the only thing to come out would be only bile and stomach acid.
With each careful step, I made my way closer to the farmhouse and the scarecrow. Through the darkness, I could see my goal, the farmhouse, and the barn. Within minutes, I had made it securely to the farmhouse yard.
My car still sat in the same spot overtop of the hole where I buried the scarecrow. In the moonlight, I could see that the dirt had not been disturbed.
The scarecrow was nowhere to be seen, and I cautiously made my way to my car, my keys in my hand as I approached the driver's door. I hadn't locked the car, and it opened on the first try. I turned on my car as quietly as I could, but nothing could have prepared me for what happened next.
Something landed heavily on top of the roof of my car, making it dent inwards slightly. With horror, I saw the scarecrow swing its scythe into the back window of my car. With a crash, the glass shattered inwards; I put my car into gear and roared away down the lane. In my rearview mirror, I couldn't see anything, so I swerved back and forth, trying to shake the creature from the roof of my car when the scythe crashed in through the front window, making a hole just large enough for it.
The glass spidered, and I couldn't see out the window very well. I swerved down the road, but the scythe remained in the car, allowing the creature purchase. In a panic, I spun my wheel wildly, trying to dislodge it, but I lost control, and soon felt something crash into the front of my car. The airbag went off in my face, and I hadn't been wearing my seatbelt. I slammed hard into something else, and my vision went dark. I was in a daze; I must have passed out because I don't remember a lot of what happened next. I felt the car door open with a crunching tear, and it landed loudly as it was torn off. My body being grabbed and tossed on the ground. I felt no pain, just a gentle numbness. I felt blood on my head as I raised my arm to touch my face.
Then just blackness, complete, and empty just feelings, fear, unease, sadness. My eyes opened, and the scarecrow was overtop of me. Pain on my chest and my vision went dark again. Coughing as something poured down my throat. I couldn't breathe, why couldn't I breathe?
My eyes opened one last time, and I saw the scarecrow pouring a dark liquid from its mouth directly into my mouth and eyes. My vision was red and bloody before I closed them one last time.
The words of its song echoed into the emptiness of my thoughts.
"Did you, did you, did you come for me?
Run and hide, don't you know that I seek?
The world it claims that I be not clean.
When I come, you'll see how filthy I can be.
Tonight, it is happening, tonight you'll see,
Beneath the moon, my shadows they do creep.
In this world, at night, I shall be free.
Tonight it's happening, tonight you'll see.
When I come, you had better flee, or else I'll come and give my filth to thee."
The darkness enveloped me, and I felt myself slipping away, the sounds of the night fading into oblivion.
Day 4
When I awoke, it was morning, and I found myself lying in a hospital bed. My head throbbed with pain, and my body ached all over. The memories of the terrifying night flooded back to me, and I shuddered involuntarily.
A nurse entered the room, her kind eyes filled with concern. "You're awake," she said softly, her voice gentle like a soothing balm. "You're lucky to be alive. You were found unconscious by the side of the road next to your car. Do you remember what happened?"
I tried to speak, but my throat felt raw and dry. I croaked out a few words, barely audible. "The scarecrow... it attacked me..."
The nurse frowned, her brows furrowing in confusion. "Scarecrow? What scarecrow?"
My heart raced with panic as I realized the truth. Had it all been a nightmare? But the pain in my body felt too real, the memories too vivid to be mere hallucinations.
I tried to explain, to tell her about the terrifying creature that had pursued me through the night, but she only looked at me with concern, as if I were delusional.
"I'll get the doctor, and there is a young man who brought you in. He has been here all morning," the nurse said with a sly wink.
After a few minutes, she came back with Eli and a doctor, both of whom smiled gently at me through the window. The doctor came in first and went over my health with me. I had a concussion and bruises all over my body. A generous-sized cut from some glass on my scalp had been stitched and bandaged. My mind flashed back to the night before. How the scarecrow had filled me with its gooey red blood.
"Did you find anything else?" I asked cautiously, trying to avoid another scandal like with the nurse.
"No, as long as you have someone to pick you up and take you home, you are free to go. That nice young man out there said he would take you back home," the doctor said, pointing to Eli as he rose with a slight grunt.
I glanced at Eli, and he waved uncertainly at me. The doctor went out and began talking to Eli for a few minutes.
While I waited, my mind began to have strange thoughts. Something was wrong; I felt weird. My vision turned red, and I began to see images before my eyes.
The Harmons. They flashed before my eyes in real-time—the husband hugging his wife, then swinging his kids around, chopping wood outback next to the barn while his wife cooked in the kitchen.
As Eli entered the room, the visions stopped suddenly. Like my saving angel for the third time now, I was extremely grateful to Eli.
"Heyyyyy," Eli said, elongating the word in a sort of familiar yet awkward way.
"Hi," I said, closing my eyes and letting my embarrassment pass in only a few seconds.
"Why is it that fifty percent of the times we meet, you're in serious trouble?" Eli asked, coming to sit on the edge of my bed.
"Oh, you know me, bad luck, I guess," I said simply, becoming aware that under my blankets, I was in a backless hospital gown, and he was inches away from me.
I pulled the blanket up to my chin as a sort of cover for my appearance, but Eli didn't seem to notice. He continued talking to me. It was actually really sweet the way he seemed to care for me.
"Anyways, the doctor said I could take you back to the farmhouse to rest," Eli said.
"No," I said suddenly, becoming serious.
"What? Why not?" Eli asked.
"I just, I just can't right now. I'll tell you later. Just, we can't spend the night anywhere near the farm," I said, grabbing him by the arm, hoping to sway him.
"Well, I mean, if you want, we can grab your stuff, and my house can literally go anywhere," Eli said in an offhand manner, as if he had expected this.
"Promise?" I asked, trying not to seem too afraid.
Within the hour, we had returned to the farmhouse. The hole I dug was still covered over, and I stared at it as we parked in Eli's black pickup truck.
I ran inside and quickly got changed into my only clean clothes, grabbing everything I had from the farmhouse. I paused at the dinner table, looking down at the photographs of the Harmons and thinking back to that weird moment in the hospital with that odd vision.
The day was getting longer, and I hurried back to Eli, waiting in the pickup truck. I threw my bag in the back and climbed in beside him. He smiled and backtracked down the lane. We turned to the left and went down a side road where we came upon my poor old car. It had crashed directly into a tree, and the whole front part of the car had been destroyed. Fluid leaked all over the road, and I almost shed a tear for my departed friend. We had traveled far together. I grabbed a few things from the car, but something was off about the car. The front door had been knocked off and was discarded on the far side of the road. It looked impossible; the door hadn't even hit the tree.
Eli hooked his truck up to his trailer, and we sped off, leaving the property behind us. We headed into town and found a pullout on the side of the road with a set of bathrooms to camp at for the night. Eli's trailer was messy but cozy. He had laundry strewn over most surfaces, but it didn't smell bad.
The room consisted of a small kitchen with a bed in one corner. There were also a lot of posters and artwork on the walls. I examined one of a pretty girl with long raven-black hair. It was a realist painting, obviously taken from real life.
"Who is this?" I asked as Eli made us some food.
"That is just a friend," Eli said, glancing at the painting he had done.
"Well, she is a pretty friend," I said, enjoying watching the back of his ears turn bright red.
"Dinner's ready," he said, pouring the mixture of food he had made onto a pair of plates.
Eli served me and handed me a can of Coke to drink. I thanked him and sat on his bed. It was the only serviceable piece of furniture in the whole trailer. We both sat in silence for a moment while we ate. I could tell something was bothering Eli as he kept making glances toward me.
"What? What is it, Eli? Just say it," I said between bites.
"Tell me what happened, Polly. Tell me why you were burying the scarecrow, why you were passed out in the road with straw in your hair. Tell me why you were muttering about the Harmons and a scarecrow when I found you," Eli said suddenly, as if he were unloading a machine gun.
I looked Eli square in the face and relented. I told him about the last couple of nights at the farmhouse, about how the scarecrow had been tormenting me every night. About how he had saved me and how last night I had fled through the fields to his trailer and then to my car. I told him about the vision I had about the Harmons in the hospital. By the end of it, I was in tears. I felt so foolish and childish.
Eli took it in stride. He asked a few questions during my retelling, but by the end of it, he was silent. Tears fell down my face and landed in my lap. We had both put our plates on the counter, and Eli hugged me. He put his arms around me, and I nuzzled into his shoulder, feeling comforted again in him at the lowest points of my life.
With a gentle hand, he wiped away my tears, and I smiled, letting a nervous laugh escape my lips. I looked up into his face and felt his stare before I saw it. His pale blue eyes shone with comfort, and then his lips were on mine as he kissed me quickly before pulling away slightly.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that. That was insensitive of me. You're sad, and I took advantage of that," Eli said, moving back slightly.
"Shut up," I said, and grabbed his shirt, bringing him back in.

I have forever been know as a small chested girl. I’ve had 4 babies and I pumped for them all which makes me feel a little saggier than I used to be, but how much can a small girl actually sag? I put in my measurements and they are saying to start at a 32C/D or 34B/C when I measure in cm and starting at a 34D when I measure with inches. My measurements were Loose underbust : 85cm - 34in Snug underbust : 81cm - 32in Tight underbust : 76cm - 30in Standing bust : 89cm - 36in Leaning bust : 95cm - 38in Lying bust : 91cm - 36in
I’ve worn a 36A pepper bra for the last year and it seems too big all around, it’s on the tightest hook and still feels loose and the top of the cups gap. I’m wondering if there is anyway I could be the sizes I’m measuring at if the a seems too big still?
Thanks for your help!

Hey guys, thought I’d share what helps me through a flare-up because the more info that’s out there, the more we’ll know about treating this condition - I’m also really hoping that this helps someone like it did with me.
There’s a concept in traditional chinese medicine where if you have too much ‘heat’ in your body, it can cause some health issues. This heat might be from foods you eat like diary, some types of seafood, and red meats for instance - the way I’d describe this heaty feeling is that almost sick feeling you get in your stomach after a rich meal.
I’ve always been told by my family that my boils were a result of being heaty, and I didn’t believe them until I started doing things that were ‘cooling’ for the body, like eating certain fruits. But namely, having cooling tea (also known as ‘leung cha’ or ‘liang cha’) during a flare-up - I’ve had some nasty flareups before, had about 2-3 cups of this tea in a day, and seen the HS sites reducing almost drastically in size and pain the next day. I continue with this routine for about 2-3 days while getting some proper sleep and have noticed that it becomes significantly more manageable.
It’s no cure but it does help me a lot and I really really hope this helps someone else too. Here’s a thing about cooling drink if anyone’s interested. I think you should be able to find it in your local asian grocer(?). All you need to do is rinse the dust off the herbs, boil it for an hour, strain and drink it (apparently more effective when it’s hot). If anyone else has tried this too, I’d love to hear your experience with it

I had my second baby a few weeks ago, and as a 34I bra size went back to Kindred Bravely for pumping bras, having had a great experience with my first child when I was a 32G. I bought the super busty-small size, per their size chart, and was thrilled it was on final sale, making it $20 for a bra, so naturally I bought 4. When they came in, there was CLEARLY a manufacturing or labeling error, because what I got was literally a small cup labeled a super-busty-small. My boobs are spilling out the top, sides, and bottoms of the cup - there is NO volume to the cup at all.
Thanks to their policy on final sale, and a lack of availability of other sizes, they refunded me in store credit, but I had a poor experience with the customer service rep and am looking for other bra companies who make pumping bras for busty mamas, preferably without an underwire. I saw Dairy Fairy has what appears to be the most size-inclusive range, but haven’t heard of them before - does anyone have experience with this brand? I bought Davin & Adley Amelia bralette, which fits and is relatively comfortable but isn’t a super flattering profile for my projected, center-full nursing breasts, and pushes them together and kinda down.
What other options are there that are good quality, under $70/bra, and comfortable?

PART 1:

 Every town has their own version of “The Boogeyman”. A monster, cryptid, phantom, whatever you want to call it, it’s all essentially the same thing- just a scary story they tell kids in an attempt to get them to behave. An urban legend is just a life lesson disguised as a horror story after all. For us folk living up in the tiny and once prosperous gold-mining town of Trillium, ours was known simply as The Locust Man. Now, let me start by saying, I realize how ridiculous that name must sound to you. “The Locust Man”?? Pftt…What’s he do, besides get stuck in the grill of someone’s pick-up truck. Destroy some crops? Oooh, he sounds real scary... yeah, I know. But yet, as I sit here today 20 years after the fact - a grown woman who’s wiser, stronger, and even more grounded in reality than she was at 12, I still hesitate to even write down that name. 

As a young child I had always thought it to be a little weird that our town was called Trillium, considering I had never seen a single one growing there. If you don’t know, a trillium is a small flower, usually white but they come in other color varieties as well, with three pedals and a bright yellow center. They sort of look like if you took a lily and tore off every other pedal playing “He loves me, he loves me not”. In school, about 2nd grade or so, we were taught everything about this elusive flower I’d never seen in real life, and told how proud our town was to be named after it. Trillium, Colorado was established in 1922 - A new town born in the wake of a great tragedy which befell the town that had previously sat in the same location. For us, and those that came before us, the trillium was supposed to be a symbol of hope. Knowing all that I know now, that sentiment almost makes me want to laugh - in a morbid way.

 Growing up in a small, mostly isolated town, there really wasn’t much for a kid to do. You’d have to drive 45 minutes to get to the closest mall and movie theater. The high school kids would usually all hang out at the roller rink downtown or at the old run-down burger joint called Slim’s that sat across it. But at that age, I wasn’t allowed to go hang out there by myself yet and for me, going with my parents tagging along wasn’t an option I was open to. My neighborhood was on a long dead end road leading up to a large patch of woods that separated the main part of town from the abandoned mine. The old trail the miners used was still accessible up until a point, and so me and the other kids from my street would hang out in those woods all the time. We had a “secret spot” which was, what we thought at the time, about half way through the woods, 10 steps away from a small shallow creek that pretty much ran the length of the area. Rain Creek, we called it. There was a small clearing there, and we had created our own little clubhouse using old milk crates as supports, half- broken wooden pallets as walls, along with some old lawn chairs one of the neighbors was throwing out one day. I made my contribution by bringing a tarp we had in our basement that served as the roof of our establishment. Our parents didn’t love the idea of five 10 to 12 year olds running around in the woods by ourselves, but as long as we stayed within earshot and made it back before the streetlights came on, they probably figured it was safer than us being across town galavanting unsupervised. 

It was me, Lacey, Devin, Mikey and Michelle. We were all best friends - pretty much inseparable, except the boys weren’t invited to the girls’ sleepovers and vise versa. Everyday after school, we’d get dropped off by the bus at the very beginning of our road, and it was a running joke between the Rain Street Gang (as we liked to call ourselves) for all of us to try and run off the bus as quickly as possible, while me, Lacey and Devin would all yell in unison ‘Last two home are some rotten eggs!!’, as Mikey and Michelle tried to push past us to get a head start. The aforementioned two were siblings, and lived in the very last house on our row right next to the woods, so they’d always get home last, regardless of their efforts. Although, the year that Mikey got a pair of Heelys for Christmas he finally got his edge over the rest of us, leaving Michelle to be the lone “rotten egg” until the next summer when one of his wheels broke off. The whole point of it all was just to get home and get our chores and homework done as fast as possible, so we could meet up at Mikey and Michelle’s house with enough daylight left to make our trek into the woods and back - together as a group. All five of us had made a pact to never visit the clubhouse without all members present, although us girls always had a sneaking suspicion that the boys thought themselves exempt from that rule. They, after all, were the ones that had discovered the spot in the first place, and not to mention, did most of the physical labor of dragging our provisions out there. Me and Lacey initially only heard about the spot a day after the boys found it; Michelle had walked into Mikey’s room in the middle of him and Devin talking about it, and immediately relayed the message to us. Michelle wasn’t necessarily more loyal to the girls than the boys, she was just the youngest among us and honestly couldn’t resist blurting out any mildly relevant information she thought she might have, in an effort to be included. But in that regard, if the boys had ever gone out there on their own, they would’ve had to be extremely sneaky about it, because Michelle’s number one objective in life was to gather any piece of intel she could. It was a seemingly normal Saturday morning when we learned our suspicions about the boys may have been warranted.
I had slept over at Lacey’s house the night before. We had just woken up and were still sitting on her bed discussing our possible plans for the day, when Michelle busted through the door with a look on her face that immediately told us she had finally gotten a hold of some juicy information, before she could even open her mouth to stutter out, “You-you-you guyssss, guess w-w-what!?!” Lacey gestured the nail file that was in her hand toward her, raising her eyebrows bluntly as Michelle tried to catch her breath. “So… Devin came to sleep over last night, annnnnd I was pretending to go to the bathroom so I could spy on them. Seeeeee, I was supposed to be sleeping but I -“ “Ughh come on Michelle, get to it! What’d you hear?” Lacey snapped “Ughh okay okay. So, I heard the boys talking, anddddd…. they’re planning to go explore the old mine today!!” “Alright Michelle! Good spying!” I chuckled, trying to encourage her after Lacey’s impatience. Lacey rolls her eyes, then immediately stands up. She takes the scrunchie off her wrist, ties her long blonde hair into a messy bun, and simply said, “Let’s go.” “Lacey..” I said “What??” She responds as if she hadn’t registered the tone of my voice at all. As I opened my mouth to begin explaining all the logical and practical reasons why even if the boys were stupid enough to go play around somewhere dangerous, we shouldn’t be, Michelle exclaims, “That’s where the Locust Man lives!!” I close my mouth in defeat, as I know Lacey will take this nonsense as a challenge, and because of that, no amount of my warnings concerning actual dangers would have any effect on her decision. Lacey dismisses her comment as she attempts to shove her foot into one of her new pink sneakers that she refuses to admit are too small for her. “Pshhh, don’t be such a baby Michelle, he’s not real, you do know that right?” Michelle crinkled her face and yelled back, “Yes he is Lacey! He is!! And th-th- that’s where he lives, and he eats kids that go there!” Lacey laughs at her and says “Oh yeah? You still believe in Santa clause too? What about the tooth fairy?” Michelle looked down at her shoes, and although she could admittedly be annoying, I found myself feeling bad for her. “Come on Lacey, she’s just scared.” Lacey shot me a look like she was expecting me to burst into laughter, but I just gave her a smirk and a shrug, and she rolled her eyes and said “Get dressed.”

 We walked in silence toward the end of the road, though the reasons for all three differed drastically. Lacey’s was determination and resolve, mine was comtemptousness and defeat, and Michelle’s was just fear. I found myself half-way hoping the boys had left already, but as we approached the driveway we caught them just as they were about to step off the porch. 

“Hey!!” Lacey yelled, in her trademark cheerleader cadence. “Where do you boys think you’re going without us?”. Mikey let a groan and rolled his eyes, while Devin said through a coy smile, “Well, we were actually just heading out to go to find you girls.” “Liar.” Lacey snapped, quickly wiping the grin off Devin’s face. “Michelle already blabbed- we know where you two are going and we’re coming too.” The boys looked at each other, then Mikey shot Michelle an angry look as she tried to shrink herself behind me, and said, “Fine, whatever, but no cry baby snitches allowed!!” Michelle then proceeded to prove both of his accusations correct by yelling back, “I am not a cry baby!! I’m telling mom if you don’t let me come with you!!” At that point I finally spoke up. “Alright, listen.” I said sternly, then once I had their attention I lowered my voice a bit to say, “Just for the record, I think us going to that grody old mine is a dumb idea and a big waste of time, but if one of us goes, we all go. That’s the deal, so make your decisions.” Lacey folded her arms in solidarity beside me, and with that we all had an unspoken understanding. So, with the boys out ahead leading the way, we headed toward the tree line.

 As we entered the woods, I felt a sense of dread wash over me - but to be fair, as a preteen emo kid who had already reached an adult level of cynicism, I felt a certain level of dread towards almost everything in life. So take my premonition with a grain of salt, but for some reason, this felt… different. I remember the woods being abnormally quiet that day. It took some time for me to even notice, but as soon as I did, I interrupted the mindless chatter going on to say, 

“Where are all the freakin’ birds?” Everyone turned to look at me as if I’d completely lost my mind. “Uhhh… What are you talking about?” Devin asked me. I pointed up toward the treetops. “Listen…. ” They all looked up, then looked around at each other in confusion. “Every time we’ve ever been in these woods, there’s always birds chirping back and forth. We’ve been walking almost 5 minutes now and I haven’t heard a single bird, have you guys?” “Damn, yeah, that is weird.” Mikey agreed. “They probably all just migrated!!” Devin goofily offered. “That’s stupid Devin, it’s spring. If anything, there should be more birds here, not less you moron.” Lacie argued. Devin flipped Lacie off, which was the best rebuttal he could usually come up with, and then turned toward me and said, “Okay whatever, what’s your point exactly?” “Just that - “ I looked over to Mikey, then back at Devin. “It’s weird.” I didn’t want to say what I was actually thinking. That the woods being too quiet was never a good thing. That when birds aren’t chirping, it could mean there’s a predator nearby. Besides, I was pretty confident that the boys, having both been in the scouts, knew what I knew, so saying it out loud would only serve to annoy Lacie and further frighten Michelle. Mikey broke his gaze that had been fixed on me, and while scanning our surroundings he said, “Let’s stop by the clubhouse on the way.” With a nod from me, we continued. When we arrived at our pit stop, Lacey hobbled over to the closest lawn chair and plopped herself down in it. “Ughhh, my feet are killing me!!” “I wonder why.” I mutter under my breath. “Excuse me, what was that?” “Just saying. Those shoes are gonna be the death of you Lace, you can barely walk in them.” “Pshhh, shut up. They just need to be broken-in okay? You’re just jealous cuz you’re still wearing your dirty old Vans from last year.” “Oooh yeah, you got me there. I am so sad I don’t have a pair of ugly pink Sketchers that don’t fit me.” She stuck her tongue out at me and we both laughed. I was just about the only person who could go toe to toe with Lacey’s sass. It’s part of the reason we ended up being best friends, besides being neighbors. In regard to style, personality and interests, we were almost polar opposites. But when it came to humor we were equals. And more importantly, we both had a mutual understanding when it came to our differences- I was me and she was her, and neither of us felt the need to try and make the other one be more like us. Besides, I was the only person who had ever really stood up to Lacey and didn’t take any of her crap, so I think she respected that. While that exchange had been going on, Michelle had started picking tiny pink flowers, and the boys were rummaging in the clubhouse for something. I yelled in their direction, “Hey! Big Mike and Dirty D!!” Me and Lacey giggled and she mouthed the word “big” with air quotation marks. They didn’t respond, so I walked over to the entryway and looked in. They were standing with their backs to me while looking down at an open metal box, and Mikey was reaching to grab whatever was in it. As he stood back up, I could see what it was. “What the fuck Mikey, seriously?” Hearing me cuss, Lacey and Michelle crowded in behind me. “Chill, it’s just a BB gun.” “I know it’s a BB gun Michael, what are you doing with it, and why is it here?” I was livid at the thought that he might be coming out here and shooting at animals just to be a shithead. I expected something like that from a goober like Devin, but not Mikey. Michelle butted in, “I’m telling mom!!!” “Nice try, dad knows I have it.” He looked at me and softened his tone. “It’s for protection, just in case we come across a black bear, or some weirdo creep out here. Seriously… it’s just to scare off something, not hurt it.” He knew how I felt about killing animals, especially for no good reason. A lot of people out here are poor and hunt for food, which I could accept as a reality. But hurting animals just for fun is psycho behavior, so I was relieved to hear him dispel my fear; I really didn’t want to have to hate him. “Do you even know how to shoot that thing?” Lacey asked. “Yeah, my dad showed me.” Devin clapped his hands together, making us all jump and himself laugh. “Well alright then, let’s get going!” I turned to Michelle, still holding the flowers. “You okay?” She nodded. “If you want me to walk back with you, I can.” I was slightly hoping she’d say yes so I’d have an excuse to get out of this excursion, but she just shook her head and forced a smile. I knew she was scared, but she was just too curious. Maybe I was too.

 We walked for what felt like half an hour. The trees had gotten more dense and the path narrowed from the overgrowth. Still no birdsong. I kept scanning the area in search of any sign of life other than us. Looking for movement of creatures scurrying away, listening for the sound of rustling as we passed, hoping for a squirrel, a lizard, even a bug. Nothing. 

“How much further is this damn thing?” Lacey groaned. Mikey answered without even turning around. “We should be coming up on it any time now.” “You said that like 10 minutes ago.” “Yeah, and now we’re like 10 minutes closer to it. And hey guess what, you insisted on inviting yourself - so suck it up buttercup.” “Hahahaha!” Devin laughed like a maniac at Mikey’s quip, while Lacey folded her arms and for once in her life didn’t have a snappy comeback. This time however, I did. “Well we really only came along to make sure you idiots didn’t kill yourselves.” “Oh, so you girls came out here with us to be our protectors, huh?” Devin laughed. “Ehh, more like babysitters.” Needless to say, I was flipped off for that statement. We rounded the next bend and suddenly all came to an abrupt stop one after another, starting with Mikey. Devin positioned himself beside him and let out a disappointed groan. “Shit Mikey!” A huge tree had fallen and was blocking the trail completely. There was no way we could climb over it because of all the leaves and branches - we’d have to go around it, which meant leaving the safety of the trail and crossing Rain Creek twice to get back to it. “Seriously???” Lacey exclaimed. “Maybe it’s a sign that we shouldn’t be going.” I shrugged. Mikey didn’t seem fazed by the obstruction at all. In fact, he seemed more confident. More calm. More sure of his intended mission. “It’s fine, we’ll just go around.” Michelle, who had been mostly quiet this whole time, finally broke her fear induced silence. “We are NOT supposed to leave the tr-tr-trail Michael! We could get lost!” “We aren’t gonna get lost Michelle, I have a compass. Plus, it’s literally just a few paces that way, then we cross the creek and circle back once we pass the tree and we’re right back on the trail.” “Oh you have got to be kidding me” Lacey said, “I’m not treading through that nasty water!” “Yeah Mikey, what about Lacey’s brand new shoes??” I laughed, and she playfully slapped me in the arm. Mikey’s patience was wearing thin with us. “Look, we already walked this far - if we turn back now, we’ve wasted the whole day for nothing. If you girls wanna be lame and turn around, then go for it - but me and Dev are going.” That’s all Lacey needed. A challenge to accept; someone to prove wrong. “I’ll show you lame.” She pushed past the boys and lead the way into the thick brush towards Rain Creek. It wasn’t very wide across, and there were lots of fallen limbs and large rocks spread throughout it. The current was barely that of a trickle, and the depth was no more than knee deep for us. It was definitely doable - just an inconvenience. And of course, one more ominous obstacle lying directly in our path. Another hint from the universe telling us to turn around. We didn’t listen. Lacey placed one foot on the closest limb and pushed down a few times to test its sturdiness. “I got this.” She stepped out onto it with both feet, then shimmied sideways until she was close enough to the large exposed rock in the middle of the creek, and hopped onto it. She turned around with a full grin and said, “Coming?” Mikey made his way across the limb as Lacey hopped onto a different limb which led her to the other side of the creek. Devin followed, then me, and then it was Michelle’s turn. “I’m scared to fall in!” Of course she is, I should have made her go before me. “It’s okay Michelle, it’s easy!” I reassured her. She didn’t look convinced in the slightest. “Come on Chelle, we’re leaving you!” Mikey yelled, already walking away. “Nooo!! I’m coming! Wait!” She made it across, but instead of just walking like everyone else did, she got down on her hands and knees and gripped the limb as if it were the only thing in between her and a 50 foot drop to the ground, which was funny to see but prolonged the whole process further. After all, we were about to have to do all of this again. Next go round went a lot smoother. The creek was more shallow here, and there were a whole lot more stepping rocks and debris built up. Having just crossed successfully a few minutes ago, we were all more confident in our abilities, including Michelle - who this time we made go first. “Just walk across like it’s a bridge! You got this!!”, we all cheered for her, and then clapped when she made it to the other side. Before we knew it we were back on the trail, and it wasn’t long after that we finally arrived at our intended destination.

 We all stopped and stared at it for a minute, carefully examining the dilapidated exterior of the place that had brought both prosperity and destruction upon our town. Mikey bent down, picked up a rock and threw it into the entrance. We heard it bounce a few times before it stopped. 

“Just to make sure nothing’s in there.” he turned around to clarify. “Did anyone think to bring a flashlight?” I asked. “It’s dark as hell in there.” I was hoping for just one more reason not to go. Devin reached into his cargo shorts pocket and pulled out a small keychain-sized flashlight, smiling with the satisfaction of finally being useful. “Okay, Mikey’ll hold the gun, I’ll shine the light and you girls follow behind us. Let’s go.” Mikey shifted the BB gun from its position of resting on his shoulder, to holding the barrel in his left hand and the butt in his right; trying his best to emulate a soldier’s stance. Something his dad had taught him I’m sure. We ducked down a bit to enter. “How far in we going?” Lacey asked. “Until we see something cool.” Mikey answered. I turned around to check on Michelle, still hovering in the doorway. “You coming?” I could see in her eyes that fear had finally gotten the better of her, and curiosity had taken a backseat. With wide eyes she shook her head. “The-the Locust Man lives in there.”, she tried to whisper. “I knew you were gonna be a baby about this!” Mikey yelled. I crouched down and put my hand on her shoulder. Against my better judgment, I say “How bout you just wait here for us and pick some more flowers. We won’t be long, there’s nothing in there, I promise. Just.. don’t move from this spot and we’ll be right back, okay?” I could feel her unease, but she seemed to accept my reassurance nonetheless. “Okay.” I smiled, then stood up and looked down at my watch to check the time. 12:46 PM. I turned and headed into the darkness, trying to catch up with everyone else. I didn’t feel good about leaving Michelle, but I didn’t feel good about letting the rest of them go in there alone either. And if I’m being honest, maybe a little part of me wanted to see what was in there too. When I caught up to Lacey she asked, “Where’s Michelle?” “Stayed behind at the entrance, she was too scared. I told her to pick flowers and wait there for us.” “Pshh, figures.” “Yeah. How’s your feet?” “At this point, numb actually.” It was so dark in there that even Devin’s rinky dink flashlight was illuminating the area enough for me to start taking a closer look at my surroundings. I looked around at the rock walls, they were covered in what looked like orange mold and green algae. There was a slight breeze coming in from the entrance, but the whole place just had a staleness to it. The boys stopped and turned around as we arrived at the first curve. “So ladies, what do you think? Cool huh?” Devin asked excitedly. “Smells like a fart in here.” I said.

 The most dangerous thing about exploring an old mine wasn’t getting lost in the maze of tunnels, or tripping on the rusted tracks and slamming your head against the wall - it was something simply referred to as bad air. Pockets of still air that have dangerously low levels of oxygen, the old men in town would call it “black damp”. There was also something produced from the old chemicals they once used called “stink damp”, which smelled like rotten eggs. Both were lethal. 

“I wonder if there’s dead bodies in here!” “Uh, Dev… we’re gonna be the dead bodies in here if we go in too far. I wasn’t just making a joke, you know that rotten egg smell can mean bad air.” Mikey interjected. “The entrance isn’t far behind us, there’s still enough fresh air coming in. We won’t go in too far, let’s just get to the end of this tunnel where it splits off and look around a bit, then we’ll turn around.” The fork in the tunnel really wasn’t that much further, and even though I knew once we rounded this curve I wouldn’t be able to see the entrance behind me anymore, I decided what the hell. Maybe a hundred more steps, then we can finally turn around and this whole dumb situation would be closer to being over with. When we got there, we looked down the length of the connecting tunnels each way. Everything looked unusually identical in its deterioration. I could see how someone could easily get disoriented and lost down here. “Hellooooo…” Mikey yelled to the left, his voice echoing through the corridor. Devin turned to the opposite direction and called out, “Hey yo, Locust Man!! You in here?” We all giggled, which made me think about Michelle, still waiting at the entrance for us, alone in the woods. I looked down at my watch. 12:46 PM. “Hey what the f-“ My cuss word was interrupted by a loud bang that came from the passageway Devin had just been hollering into. We all froze. I didn’t have time to process that my watch had stopped right as we entered the tunnel, or that Michelle had been left alone for who knows how long now, or that we had just heard what sounded like a support beam crashing to the ground, because next came a horrifying screeching buzzing sound. It sounded distant at first, but was quickly increasing in volume. We silently looked around at each other and backed away stunned at what we were hearing. Mikey never took his eyes off the tunnel though, and slowly he began to raise the BB gun to firing position. Without even thinking, I grabbed the barrel and pushed it downward. He quickly tore his eyes away from his target to look at me. I shook my head and managed to barely choke out the word, “Explosion.” He nodded and I let go. I looked down at the gun in his hands, and seeing his finger had already been on the trigger, I realized how lucky it was that I didn’t make him shoot himself in the foot. All of a sudden, the noise stopped. “What the hell was that?” Lacey asked. “I don’t know, nothing good.” I said. “Let’s just get the fuck out of here before this whole place caves in on us or something.” Another loud bang erupted from the right, extremely close to us. “Shit!!!” We all turned around and ran as fast as we could back toward the entrance. Devin tried to push past me, but as he did my elbow knocked the flashlight out of his hand. “My flashlight!!!” “Leave it!” Mikey shouted “The turn is right here, we won’t need it!” We rounded the corner, and using what little light there was illuminating from the entrance to guide us back, we ran like our lives depended on it. And they may have- none of us dared to look back, not like we would have been able to see anything anyway. When we finally made it out, we were all completely out of breath. I felt like I was going to throw up. I have to admit though, once we had made it back to safety I felt a rush of adrenaline like I had just had a near death experience. That feeling quickly faded into sheer panic when I looked around and realized Michelle was nowhere to be seen. “Uh, where’s Michelle?” Mikey asked me. “I told her to stay right here, she can’t be very far… Michelle!!!!” We all called her name, as loud as we could. No answer, no sign of her anywhere. “Alright look, she probably went off a little further looking for flowers to pick.” I tried to rationalize. “Let’s just split off in 4 directions and walk in a straight line while calling for her. She’s bound to hear one of us.” Everyone agreed, and even though I appeared outwardly as the level-headed calm person you need to take control in an emergency, inside I was petrified that something had happened to her, and that it would be my fault. I took the east, and headed out. It didn’t take too long before I passed a large tree and saw her sitting down behind it, looking at something on the ground. “Michelle! Oh thank god!! Didn’t you hear us calling for you??” She didn’t answer me, or even turn around. “Michelle, didn’t I tell you to stay by the entrance and not move?!?” My relief was quickly turning into annoyance as she continued to ignore me. I walked up closer to see what she was looking at, and my mouth dropped in awe of what she had found. It was a single white trillium.

 They say it takes 8 years for a trillium plant to produce a flower, and conditions have to be just right for it to bloom. That’s what makes them so special and rare. I stared down at it almost in a trance, like I was seeing a mythical creature. Michelle slowly reached out her hand towards it and I snapped out of it. 

“No!!” I grabbed her by the arm and she finally turned around to look at me. “If you pick the flower, the plant will die.” She ripped her arm away from my grasp and whined, “But I want to show my mom!” We heard Mikey calling from the north and I cupped my hands over my mouth to yell back, “I found her, she’s over here!!” I looked back at her. “No Michelle, come on, you can just tell her about it when we get back home.” I had enough, I was beyond ready to go and we still had at least another 45 minutes of walking to even get back to the clubhouse; an hour if Michelle kept up her crap. I grabbed her arm again and pulled her up to a standing position, looking back at the trillium as I walked her away. Mikey caught up to us, breathless but trying to hide his concern. “You little shit, we should have left you out here! What the hell were you doing?” I let go of her arm and she walked toward Mikey. “She was trying to pick a flower over there.” “It was a trillium!!” Michelle said, with the biggest smile on her face. “Wait, really?” He looked at me in disbelief. Before I could respond, a blood curdling scream echoed through the forest, coming from the west. It was Lacey. My heart dropped into my stomach and once again, every molecule in my body went into full blown panic mode. This time, I couldn’t contain my composure. “Laceyyyyyy!!!!!” A panicked shriek erupted from my lungs and I took off running. Mikey grabbed Michelle and sprinted after us. The trees became a blur; I didn’t even feel all the scratches and scrapes. Had she come across a coyote? A mountain lion? A bear? I didn’t even stop to think about the danger I might be about to come in contact with, I just ran. And then I found her. She was lying on the ground, holding her left foot. “Lacey!!” I said, trying to choke back the tears that were building up. “I think I twisted my ankle!!” “Oh god damn it, you bitch.” I struggled to catch my breath. “I thought you were dead.” “I might as well be, I have cheerleading practice on Monday!” Mikey and Michelle caught up to us. “What happened?” He asked “She’s being a drama queen, she just rolled her ankle.” I was angry. “Can you get up?” He asked her. She was able to stand, but as soon as she tried to put any pressure on her foot at all, she screamed in pain. We spotted Devin running over from the south as he was yelling out, “Hey yo, everyone alive and accounted for?” “Yeah, Lacey hurt her ankle.” Mikey yelled back. As he approached he looked concerned. “Can you walk on it?” He asked her. “No.” Without hesitation he replied, “Well alright then, looks like you’re gonna have to piggyback it all the way back home.” He lowered himself enough to where she could hop up onto his back, and we headed back toward the trail. Even though my nerves had begun to settle a bit, I knew we were still far from being out of the woods, in more ways than one.

1 cm of height = 1 cm of penis size
12 cm height = 1 cup size
1 cm height = 1 band(bra) size (not sure if I understand this right I'm male, but the number not the letter)
2 cm height = 1 point of BMI
12 cm height = 1 point of facial attractiveness on the usual 1-10 scale people use.
You can freely exchange the points around as you wish. I'm sure there are ways to cheese it so have fun.

First of all, I wanted to thank everyone for their kind words and support from the last post. A lot has happened since then, and a bunch of context is needed, so I hope you'll bear with me as I explain the details.
***
Back during the peak of the blinking crisis, I remember having a lot of difficulty sleeping. It was common for me to average only four or five hours a night, and the little sleep I did get was marred by terrible nightmares. One in particular recurred many times.
I was only eight, but somehow I was in the driver's seat of our family's old SUV. My arms were long enough to steady the wheel, but my legs didn't quite meet the pedals. It didn't matter though, since the car seemed content to continue on at a constant pace. I looked over and saw my mom in the passenger seat. Her face was a blurry likeness pieced together from the dozen or so picture's I'd seen of her over the years. I tried to bring her into focus, not only because I missed her dearly, but because she was speaking—pleading, even. She waved frantically at me, then brought her leg up and slammed it down on the floor mat several times. I didn't understand what had her so upset until she pointed out the front windshield, and I saw we were hurdling directly toward a giant tree that had fallen in the middle of the road.
Panicking, I stomped for the brake, but my seatbelt protested and pulled me back like an invigorated dog on a short leash. I sat up and tried clicking it off, but it wouldn't budge. My breaths became hollow cries, and I felt my heart beat against the bars of its bony prison. I grabbed the steering wheel and pulled it to the left, then right, attempting to swerve off the road, but it was as if whatever kind of glue was locking up the seatbelt was also fixing the steering wheel in place.
"Mom! what do I do!?" I yelled, tears streaming from my eyes. She was yelling back at me, but it was as if there was a divider between us, and neither of us could hear each other. I turned back just in time to see the giant Oak tree meet the front bumper, and then I jolted awake with a piercing pain in my chest that radiated up through my throat in the form of a giant scream. My little legs kicked under the covers and tears rained down on my pillow until my dad ran in and knelt at my bed.
"Lauren, are you okay? Did you have a bad dream?"
I grabbed my pillow and hugged it so my face was covered, then effused a "Mmm-hmm" in a long wheeze while rocking to either side.
"Oh, honey," he soothed and brushed my hair, then the tears from my face when I would allow it.
Time would pass in silence, and when I began to get the sense that my dad was ready to leave, I'd chirp out, "stay" in that way children do when they're embarrassed about wanting something.
"Always," my dad would reply; then he'd post up on the floor with my large tomato plushie as a pillow.
One night in particular, it was deep in the night, and I had woken to a tapping sound outside my window. I was so afraid that a monster had snuck into my room while I wasn't looking that I made him lay next to me and face outward. I'd peek my eyes open every minute or so to check and make sure my dad was there, staking out the room. Eventually, he rolled in close and said something that I still remember to this day.
"Hey, baby, guess what." he whispered.
"Mmm" I mumbled.
"I think you scared the monster away."
I tried to picture this through the fog of my fatigue. Something seemed off about the statement, like it wasn't logically possible, but before I could piece together the words to express that, my dad cut back in.
"It was scared because it realized you're a superhero. And you know what your greatest superpower is?"
I shook my head, making sure to rub my forehead against his shoulder so he could sense it in the dark room.
"You're greatest power is that you get to tell the monsters what to do. Because the monsters are only as strong as the stories you tell about them. And there's all kinds of stories. Happy ones. Sad ones. Scary ones. Tell me, this monster you think snuck in, would you say he's part of a scary story?"
"I don't know," I said, confused. "Maybe"
"Hmm," he hummed, contemplating. "Well, I want you to remember this. You have the ability to tell any kind of story you want. Maybe there are monsters, but that means there's heroes and angels, too, right?"
I was beginning to doze off to the comforting sound of my dad's deep voice, but I gave another affirmative "Mm-hmm".
"So, if you're ever scared, honey, just dream up a better story. A story that will bring you peace. Do you understand?"
But I was already out.
***
I woke up the next morning to the feeling that someone was in the hotel room with me. The drapes were drawn and the only sound was the AC unit blowing cold air, but when I looked toward the dark corner of the empty coat rack, my mind conjured the face of my dad, smiling at me, chanting that same, awful line—Oh, Lauren… you know who we are.
I was no longer a child, but it took a couple minutes of cold focus before I muscled the courage to ascend from the safety of my covers and flick on the lamp light. The small amber radius extended to where my dad's feet would have been if he was standing there. But there was no one. I let out a sigh and collapsed back onto the mattress, thinking back on all those years growing up. The same man who had helped me conquer my fear of the dark was now the monster hiding in its shadow.
I looked over my shoulder and saw the clock read 10:15. My meeting with Trent was in three hours. I moaned and stretched my arms back until they knocked against the headboard, then I collapsed back onto the mattress, meditating, gathering energy like a compressed spring. All at once, I jumped up and glided over to the drapes, opening them in a single, fluid motion. I grimaced at the sunlight, but the warmth felt good against my face. I stopped by the nightstand and gulped down the final few swigs of a bottle of Mello Yello that I had purchased from a vending machine the previous night, then undressed and hopped in the shower.
The warm water wasn't enough to wash away the previous night's memories. When I closed my eyes to lather my hair, I was back in my living room, standing opposite the demon that had taken on my dad's form. His smile. His laugh. It was like someone in my head was flipping a switch between the man I loved growing up and a terrible monster. But the fear was more powerful. I heard something drop onto the tile floor on the other side of the curtain. The noise made me gasp, and I opened my eyes while shampoo was still streaming down my face. I swiped the shampoo out of my now burning eyes and squinted at the curtain, trying to see through it, but I couldn't make anything out. "I-is anyone," I started, trembling, afraid to finish the sentence. I reached out and pinched the end of the curtain. My heart was in overdrive. I swallowed, then pulled it toward me and peeked out. I scanned the room, but I couldn't see anything out of place.
It wasn't until after I finished showering and wound myself up in one of the hotel's too-small towels that I saw what had made the noise. I bent down and picked up the stub of a razor blade that had fallen onto the tile right next to the puffy, gray shower rug. It wasn't mine, and I was pretty sure hotels didn't keep unguarded razor blades just laying around. When I held it up, it occurred to me that if it had simply fallen a few inches to the left, it would have been buried in the rug, and perhaps I would have stepped on it. I stared at myself in its steely reflection. Cold. Lonely. Small. What if I—was all I was able to think before the blade blinked out of my hand.
I threw on some clothes, packed up the few belongings I had into my purse, then checked out of my room. I didn't feel safe going back home after what happened, but I also didn't want to go anywhere else. I got in my car and drove aimlessly up and down the town's streets, focusing only on the car ahead of me. Anytime I started to travel down an avenue of thought, I'd make a turn, or speed up, or hit the brakes: anything to keep my mind distracted. It was sweltering outside, but I'd turn the heat on for minutes at a time until I felt drenched, then toggle max AC until I was cool, then back to heat. I repeated the basic driving tenet "10 and 2", "10 and 2", "10 and 2" like a mantra—a chant to focus my attention on a single point, and then I pictured that point disappearing. I began to think that maybe I wanted to disappear.
I fully intended to keep going that way until 1:00, but after about thirty minutes, my meandering route had led me to St. Mark's Catholic Church, where a large group of people were gathered around a long line of tables in front of the building. I slowed down. At the front of the venue was a large, white cardboard sign which read, "Plant a Seed, Share the Joy". I wasn't sure what that meant, but my boredom had come to a head, and I rationalized that if there's any place on God's green earth that would be safe, it was this one. I parked along the closest side-street, then walked over to the church.
Rows of white tables were covered with cardboard boxes filled with small plants that were wrapped up in individual paper pots. I watched from a distance as people behind the tables carefully removed the plants, one by one, and offered them to passersby. I continued down the line, a sheep in the herd, and allowed myself to sink into childhood memories. I had somehow made it out the other end near the Narthex when I heard a woman's voice call to me.
"Hey, deary, have you gotten one yet?"
I turned and saw a small, gray-haired lady with rose-colored glasses. "Oh, no," I started, attempting to decline, then paused. The old lady grabbed one of the plants and held it out for me.
"Here," she said. "Come on, I won't bite."
As far as you know, I thought, and stumbled forward with a sigh. "Thanks," I said and took the plant. "What is this all for, anyway?"
"It's a giveaway," the old woman responded. "Staff have been growing these plants—tomatoes and garlic, mainly—so they could offer them to members of the Parish. The idea is to have the members grow the produce, then donate it to St. Mark's Food Pantry to give to those in need."
"Oh, that's actually pretty cool." I replied and inspected my plant which was at present nothing more than a small green stem. "So which kind is this one?"
"That one is—" the old lady stopped and inspected the other plants near where she had grabbed mine—"tomato."
"Tomato," I repeated. "Well, thanks again."
"Of course, dear." the old lady beamed. "We're all responsible for each other."
I nodded, then continued back through the crowd toward my car when, through the large vestibule windows, I saw a Priest speaking to a young couple. It had been a little over a decade since I had attended a service (I stopped going during High School when I started studying other religions), and I didn't recognize this Priest. He was short (just over five feet tall), bald, and African American. He wore the customary black robe and white collar, and there was something in his smile and the way seemed to be affirming the couple that made me yearn to speak with him. I considered for a moment, a bit embarrassed to be stepping back into church after all this time, but the thought of being able to burn ten minutes talking with someone who might have some insight into my situation was too tempting to pass up.
I waited near a portrait of Mary Magdalene, my tomato plant in hand, staring off at the pristine series of stained glass images portraying the death and resurrection of Jesus. About a minute in, the Priest met my eyes; he smiled, his way of telling me he knew I was waiting, then finished up with the couple and made his way over. He had a bit of an accent when he spoke—it was Ugandan, from best I could tell—and a proclivity for laughing at the end of his sentences.
"Hello, Miss, I don't believe I've had the privilege," he said and held out his hand. He leaned in as he spoke, and his smile tugged on the corners of his eyes which were already marked with use.
I shook his hand and returned what I'm sure was a weak smile. "No, I don't think so. My name's Lauren. I used to come here when I was little. It's—been a while."
"Well, I see you picked a good day to visit. If you're into gardening, that is." He remarked with a laugh and gestured toward the plant. "It's nice to meet you, Lauren. My name's Martin—Father Martin, if you prefer."
"Father Martin," I repeated, "I have a friend named Martin. It's a good name."
He laughed and said, "Thank you, I'll pass that one along to my mother. She loves the praise."
I laughed back. He carried himself in such a carefree way that I was put immediately at ease. Almost to the point where I forgot what I wanted to talk to him about. "Um," I started, attempting to word my question in a way that didn't sound like I needed psychiatric help. "I have a couple of religious questions for you, if you have time."
"That's what I'm for. Ask away."
"They're about… miracles. Like the ones in the Bible. I was wondering, do you think that miracles still happen today?"
"Miracles, huh," he started. "You mean like water into wine?"
"Kind of, yeah,"
"Hmm…" he contemplated. "Well, I haven't seen them, myself. You know, I may be a Priest, but I also have a degree in Physics. I think God made the world according to laws, right? But I do think God has the power to intervene. Yes. I just have never seen it… like … you know, the biblical type of miracles. To me, there are miracles happening all around us—miracles we can't see."
"Exactly," I responded, thinking about how no one else could see the blinks, "those kinds of miracles. What are those miracles we can't see?"
One of Father Martin's eyebrows raised and he rubbed his chin. "Well, I think the greatest miracle is the miracle of God's love which was perfected in Christ and offered to each of us. It's his power to heal even the most troubled mind. By coming into alignment with God's will for us, we can see the true purpose of this existence."
No, he's not getting it, I thought. I scrambled to my other entry-point. "What about the story of Job? God made a bet with the Devil that Job would stay faithful to him no matter what the Devil did to him. Do you think that kind of situation is possible?"
Father Martin's expression drooped into a concerned frown. "There's quite the difference between miracles and the story of Job. I suppose I see what you're getting at, though. Job's suffering is in some ways the antithesis to positive miracles. In this life, we are tested, sometimes to the point of losing everything, but even that person who has more reason to hate God than anyone else can once again find peace and eternal happiness through faith. In fact, it's often the person who is lowest in the pit of suffering that needs the Light of Christ more than anyone else."
I thought back on the first night that I prayed. It was in my moment of greatest helplessness that I reached out to God, and I thought I had found my answer in Him. But now, after what happened last night, after all these years of chaos—not merely losing things that were important to me, but my very sanity—I needed more than just blind faith. I couldn't just sit idly by and hope things would get better. I smiled at the Priest and said, "Thank you, Father, this has been very insightful."
"Of course, sister. I'm sorry if I couldn't have been of more help."
"No, I think I understand now. I've been… wrestling with something, and I think God wants me to confront it. I think I've been running away and hiding from it for so long that I'd convinced myself it disappeared."
Father Martin nodded in understanding. "Well, in that case, will you let me leave you with a prayer?"
I was a bit taken off guard by the request, but I accepted. "Sure, Father."
I watched as he made the sign of the cross, then he lifted his hands and closed his eyes. "Dear God, I am so happy to have had the privilege of meeting with Lauren today, especially on a day such as this where we are offering gifts for those who need them. You have heard her desire to confront the things that are troubling her. I ask that you bless her with strength and peace and a clear conscience, that she may overcome these challenges. God, bless us with your spirit, that we may see your hand in our lives. Amen."
"Amen," I said.
As I was leaving, Father Martin called out to me and said, "Oh, just so you know, this Friday at 7 we are having a barbecue at the Parish Center. I would love to see you there, if you're able and wanting."
Turning back, I smiled and said, "Oh, ok, thanks Father. I'll think about it."
The priest nodded, and with a smile, he sent me off.
***
I walked into the Deli at 1:00 on the dot. The customers who had arrived for the lunch rush were already cleaning up their trash and heading out. I dodged past a few of them on my way down the long, narrow path leading to the front counter. While I waited behind a couple of elderly folk who were picking which soup they wanted to pair with their Ultimate Grilled Cheese, I looked around for Trent. He hadn't sent me a picture or any way of contacting him throughout the day, so I wasn't sure what I was looking for, but I figured I'd see some man half-hidden behind a newspaper, scouting me out. Maybe I watch too many movies, I thought.
"Ahem, ma'am. You're up." croaked the teenager behind the register.
"Oh, right, sorry" I replied and stepped up to the counter. "Uhh," I muttered, scanning the menu for something that looked edible. "Could I just get…" I made sure to mouth every syllable as they were words of their own.
"We have a deal—the try two combo. Sandwich and a soup for $9.99." the cashier repeated for what was probably the fiftieth time that day.
"Yes, that sounds good. I'll do the Italian sandwich and potato soup. And a drink, please."
After I paid for the food, I wandered around the tables, hoping to find someone who looked like a Trent. I was picturing a short guy, runner's build, with long brown hair, tucked somewhere neatly away in the corner. So I was not prepared when the Hulk's stunt double growled my name from a table smack dab in the middle of the restaurant. He had a pale, square face that was spotted with freckles and a sinking property that comes with the lethal combination of stress and age. His hair was relatively short. Probably it was brown or auburn, but since it was slicked back, it looked almost black. And he wore what looked like janitor coveralls. There was even a cloth tag pinned to his chest which read, "Trent".
"Lauren?" He repeated.
"Yes, that's me." I said and took a seat across from him. I saw a brown tray on the table in front of him, and on the tray was a large, white soup bowl. It was empty and beginning to crust along the edges. He must have been here for some time already. "I didn't know where you'd be, so I was worried we might miss each other. I'm glad you found me though." I said while looking over Trent more thoroughly. His large hands were stretched out in front of him on the table. He wasn't wearing a ring, so he probably wasn't married. And his face, it was stern. He seemed like a no-bullshit kind of guy. Then I saw his eyes. They were sapphire blue—probably the most stunning I'd ever seen.
"We only spoke on the internet, so I hope you don't mind, but I usually run a preliminary test on anyone I meet who claims to have abilities such as yours." Trent said while reaching into his pocket and removing a device that had the size and shape of an electric razor. "All you have to do is look into it. It takes maybe five seconds. Ten at most."
"Oh, um, sure," I said reluctantly. "Do I just—" I asked while reaching for the device.
Trent clicked a button and released the cylindrical head which opened, revealing a glass circle about the size of an iris. "I'll hold it, just look into the center. A red cross should appear, then it'll take the picture."
"Okay…" I replied and did as he instructed, leaning my head forward to look into the device. Sure enough, a red cross appeared. "Is it…" was all I got out before the light turned blue and I saw a gray fog disperse and billow throughout the inside of the tube, extending for what I perceived to be miles. My jaw went slack and I couldn't breathe for maybe five seconds. Then Trent reshuttered the device and turned it over.
"Damn, 72." He said with a hint of shock. "That's the highest I've scanned to date." He looked back at me, more relaxed now, and muttered to himself. "How have you been able to function for this long? At this level, you should basically be half in, half out."
I rubbed my forehead, feeling a mixture of pain and frustration and fatigue and impatience which all poured out at once. "Listen, Trent," I said as sternly as I could, "I came here because you said you knew what was wrong with me and that you could help me. I get you have to make sure I am who I said I am, but now it's your turn to pay up. How do I know you know anything about my condition? You said my mom might still be alive. What does that even mean? I saw her die right in front of me. I want answers."
I waited for Trent to respond, but he only lifted his head. I turned around and saw a girl holding a tray of food.
"Um, hi, sorry to interrupt. I have an order 36 for Lauren."
"Oh, yes, thank you." I said. The worker placed the tray down on the table in front of me, and when I saw the food, I suddenly realized how hungry I was. Trent must have also realized this, because he folded his arms and said, "go ahead and eat. I'll explain while you do."
I wanted to protest, but my salivating mouth made other plans. "Fine," I said. I grabbed the metal spoon off the tray and started on the soup, bracing against the steaming heat of the potato chunks.
As I ate, Trent moved all of the items on his tray off to the side, then he flipped the tray over so it was raised slightly off the table. He took his cup and placed it face down in the center, then he rolled up a few of his used, blue mayonnaise packets and charted a track across the tray.
"What are you doing?" I croaked out between bites.
Trent ignored me and continued by ripping up a napkin into strips and placing them alongside the mayonnaise packets. Finally, he snapped ten toothpicks in half and stuck them in the tomb of a dozen overlayed napkins. "It's your diorama," he said at last.
"It's my what?"
"From the story you sent me. Your diorama. When I read about it, it gave me a good idea of how to explain the 'blinking'."
I pointed at the cup in the center. "Is that supposed to be a pyramid? Because I'm pretty sure you're in the wrong geometric neighborhood with that one."
"It's an analogy," he said.
"Of an analogy," I quipped back.
"Look," he picked out one of the toothpicks and held it out in front of me. "This could be a person, an animal, a crowbar—whatever you want. The point is, this diorama is a stand in for our universe. This is everything that exists, that we can see. Okay?"
"Okay,"
"Now, me," Trent placed a hand over his heart. "I'm not in the diorama. I don't exist in the universe."
"In the universe where a cup is a pyramid, or the actual universe?" I said, unable to control myself.
Trent grimaced.
"Sorry, keep going. I get it."
"Things pop into," Trent threw the toothpick back onto the tray, "or out of," he picked the toothpick back up, "our universe at will, based on forces," he patted his chest again, "that exist in other realms" he gestured to the room, "that are connected to our universe," he tapped two fingers against the tray. "These things could be objects, like, say, a toothpick, or entities, like the one you encountered yesterday. The blinking experience that you described aligns with the typical experience of a moderate Antenna. That's what I call people like us—Antennas; because we can pick up on signals others can't."
"We—you mean you see the blinking, too?"
"Yes, but not to the same extent as you. If all the blinks are gathered in a giant picture that you can see, I'm traversing the image through binoculars, maybe even a microscope, depending on where we are."
I thought about this. I guess it was possible there were other people like me out there, but since I had never met anyone, I didn't really consider the idea until now. And then for him to say my ability was somehow much stronger than his… "But," I started, "I haven't even seen that many blinks since I was a child. It's just more focused and malicious now."
"Yeah," Trent scratched his head, "that's the thing that got me really interested in you. Somehow you seem to be able to control it without gear, just by praying. And, look, that's all well and good, but I don't want to give you the false impression that I'm some kind of religious leader. I like to look for logical, scientific explanations for things. So that's the frame I'm coming at this from."
I took a sip from my drink. "That's fine," I said, "the truth is that's why I reached out to you in the first place. I wanted an explanation I could understand. An explanation that was directly related to what I'm going through."
"Then we should get along just fine."
I was scooping out the last potato that was stubbornly gliding along the bottom of the bowl when, out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of the old man from the line shooting up from his bench and standing in army-erect form. I felt a tingling sensation tickle the back of my neck. I didn't want to turn toward him. I knew what I'd see if I did. "Trent," I whispered, trying to tip him off.
"Huh?" he grunted. Then when he saw my expression, he snuck his right hand under the table and said, "Do you see it? Is it here?"
I cocked my head to the left, signaling toward the old man that was now facing us, but Trent didn't seem to notice him: his eyes just kept scanning the entire front of the restaurant. Then I saw the old man take a step in our direction.
"Lauuurennnn, oh Lauuuurennnn, I've been looking for you, Laurenn." The old man said in a low, gravelly voice that gave the impression he was gurgling liquid tar. I turned and saw his face. It was cold and expressionless, and a butter knife was poking out of his left fist. When I met his eyes, he smiled that horrible smile."You're a slippery bitch, you know that?" He spat. "Why can't you just stay put? Don't you get tired of running from your old friend? Or have you forgotten about me?"
"Trent," I mumbled out. "Right there."
"And this guy. You think he can help you? He's only here to help himself. If that's not clear, you really are a lost little lamb."
"Quick, give me your hand," Trent instructed.
I was silent, my eyes still pinned to the old man.
"Tsk-tsk-tsk," the demon possessed senior wagged his finger at me, taking a step, then another step, shortening the distance as much as he could while I was entranced. Then, suddenly, he sprinted forward at a speed that shouldn't have been possible for a man his age.
"Trent!" I screamed.
"Lauren, give me your hand!"
I spun around and grabbed Tren'ts outstretched arm just as the old man lifted the butter knife over his head like a pickaxe. Then I saw Trent pull out what looked like a toy gun from under the table and point it at the demon.
"Got you," Trent remarked. I braced for a gunshot, but there was no noise. After a couple seconds, I looked back and saw the old man sitting in the booth opposite his wife, his hand tremoring as he reached for his large drink.
"What did you?" I asked, but Trent was already pulling me out of my seat. "Come on, we have to go," he said, "the effect is temporary, he'll be—"
Before he could get out the last word, I saw the cup-pyramid on Trent's tray blink out of existence. The sound of a plate shattering rang out from a table up ahead. The lone woman standing there slowly turned around, smiling, with a fork in one hand and a piece of the broken plate in the other. Trent shot her with the toy gun as we ran past and then barreled through the front door.
"Where—are we going?" I asked between gasps.
"My van. It's loaded with kit."
"And then where?"
"Your house" replied Trent who stashed his gun back in his pocket and took out a key fob.
"My house? But that's where he—it appeared."
"Yeah, and that's where you banished it."
Trent waved me into the passenger seat of his RAM 3500 Promaster. I noticed right away the dash which looked more like it belonged in a new limited-edition EV than a cargo van. The ignition kicked on automatically, and I heard the beep of a sonar ping precede an English woman's voice calling out like some auxed-in GPS saying, "scanning for anomalies". Trent shifted the van into gear, and I heard the wheels sputter as we accelerated backward and whipped out of the small parking lot.
"What's your address?" Trent asked. I gave it to him, and then speaking to his dash, he said, "Car, take us to ****."
"Redirecting to ****," replied the British woman. "Currently detecting 31 novel emergences. Updating pings every 300 milliseconds. Chance of contact: 0.23%"
"What does that mean?" I asked.
"The van has sensor equipment which can detect blinks. It's much more accurate than either of us."
"And it sees 31?"
"Yes, that's not as many as it sounds." Trent said and tore past a car that blinked out of existence right as we turned onto the main street.
We drove on for another couple minutes, the Englishwoman updating the number of novel emergences every ten seconds or so. Her constant babbling eventually became a comforting background noise, and I was able to think again.
"In the message you sent me, you said my mom may still be alive." I looked at Trent to see if he would react to me bringing her up, but he remained stolid. "What did you mean by that?"
Trent thumbed his steering wheel. "I shouldn't have sent that." He said at last.
"Shouldn't have… What do you mean? You can't just say that now."
Trent took one hand off the wheel and turned toward me. "Look, we're going back to your house because we need to determine your origin point. All Antennas have them. It's a place of high energy where many realms intersect, kind of like a station, and it's the place where you first acquired your abilities. Based on everything you wrote, I'm guessing that place is where the forest where the accident happened when you were a young child. But I need to confirm it. Once I confirm that that's the place…" Trent hesitated.
"Then… what? You want us to go back there? To the place where my mom died, or at least where I think she died until you told me she might be alive but are now taking it back? That place?"
"It's the only way to—"
"Now detecting novel agent," the Englishwoman interrupted. We both perked up as she gave another update. "Net anomalies: 437. Novel Agents: 1. Chance of contact: 78%."
"Shit," Trent muttered. "Car, course correct."
"Attempting course correct to avoid collision. Attempts made: 10, 50, 75, 79… No alternate route detected. Chance of contact: 96%."
"Time until contact?"
"Time until contact: 13 seconds."
I shuddered. Looking out the front windshield, I saw cars pop out of existence left and right, opening up a clear path to the four way intersection ahead. In a blink, the streetlights all turned green, and then they vanished completely. It was as if the entire world was being stripped down bare, and all that remained was the road, boxed in by the rows of buildings along either side. In the distance I could see a large tanker barreling toward us.
"Trent,"
"I know," he replied and clicked a different button on the console which opened a new toggle for the shifter labeled "TD". He pushed the stick forward, engaging the new mode, then pressed the accelerator all the way to the ground. "You're going to want to hold on."
"What are you doing!?" I yelled, grabbing onto my seatbelt.
"No time to explain. Car, release phase lock."
"Phase lock released."
I watched in horror as the color drained from the road and buildings and sky, transforming it all into a dim tunnel, with only the headlights of the oncoming semi-truck visible up ahead. I had the sudden thought that this was all a dream, just like the ones from my childhood. I looked over and no longer saw Trent, but my mother. And then I realized this wasn't a dream. This was hell. I was being forced to relive the worst moment of my life, over and over again. Just when I thought I had escaped, I was pulled right back into that car, helpless as we approached but never arrived at our impending fate. I closed my eyes right as the lights engulfed the windshield and braced for the usual pain in my chest, for the feeling of breaking.
But it didn't come.
"Shift" was the last word out of Trent's mouth, and then I was infused with the sensation of being at the pinnacle of a roller coaster. I was suspended there for what felt like hours, but somehow I knew that not even a second had passed. Everything inside the van: the dashboard, windows, ceiling, doors, even Trent himself began to radiate enigmatic particles. They were a mass of constant motion, like raindrops falling through the air but never landing. I looked down at my hand, but it was gone. Diffused into an unknowable number of untraceable particles. The world outside, once devoid of color, was now nothing but color. When I tried to focus on a particular spot in the infinite geometric folds of whatever realm we were traversing through, I could sometimes detect a trace of our world.
The old lady from the church. She appeared as if through a window, standing behind a table, holding out a plant. Only this image was so much brighter. And the plant she was holding was pure gold. Then I'd catch a glimpse of the razor blade. It was large, many hundreds of times larger than the van, and surrounded by darkness. These ghostly images appeared like holograms or reflections that caught the light at just the right angle, then dissipated.
I stayed there, looping between the archetypes of my life for a long, long time.
***
I knew we were returning when I felt the first sense of motion. Breath filled my lungs for the first time in what felt like a day. I blinked. And then we were back in town, driving down the same road with the blue sky above. People were jogging on the sidewalk past the little street shops. The streetlights were active. I checked the side mirror and saw the tanker had just passed by.
I looked over at Trent, who met my eyes. We shared a look of knowing, and unknowing. For some reason, that was enough, and we continued on in silence.
***
We agreed to stay the night at my house.
Trent had parked a couple blocks away in front of a couple vacant houses so as not to arouse suspicion from the neighbors. Then he lugged a large duffel bag with his equipment in and set it up in the living room. He scanned the scrapbook which contained the newspaper clippings from the accident several times and confirmed that was likely my 'origin point'. I simply nodded and then went back out onto the back porch. I sat there for hours, basking in the sun. Something had changed in the past day, but I couldn't pick out what it was. Too much had happened. I had too little time to process any of it.
When the sun set, I went inside and Trent told me about his plans for the next couple days. He said he needed to run a few errands in the morning, then meet up with a couple of his associates. After that, we could begin our drive to Southern Illinois. He said it was likely that the entity that was chasing me had first tied itself to me during my childhood accident. For whatever reason, we came into contact, and now it didn't want to leave. Trent would help me get rid of it. He didn't go into many details regarding how that was to happen, but I don't think in my tired state I would have been able to understand much anyway. He had a plan, and that was enough for me. At least for a while.
After our meeting, I made sure Trent had enough pillows and blankets like a proper host, then I retired to my room. I laid down on my twin bed and stared up at the cream-colored ceiling. Then I turned and saw the participation awards for my junior soccer league stashed on my dresser. I pictured myself on the field, running with the ball, out ahead of everyone except the goalie. I took a shot, but it was blocked. Then I ran back to defend. How can such a simple game be so much fun? Was the last thought I had before drifting off to sleep.
I woke up only once during the night. It was still dark out. The room was warm despite the small, flower petal fan churning away, shifting the hot, humid air from one pocket of the room to the next. I waited in apprehension, sensing that something had disturbed me. I saw the tomato plushie peeking out at me from the slightly ajar closet door where I had stashed it so many years ago. I felt like I was missing something. Something important.
And then I heard it.
There was a tapping at my window.

Part 1
First of all, I wanted to thank everyone for their kind words and support from the last post. A lot has happened since then, and a bunch of context is needed, so I hope you'll bear with me as I explain the details.
***
Back during the peak of the blinking crisis, I remember having a lot of difficulty sleeping. It was common for me to average only four or five hours a night, and the little sleep I did get was marred by terrible nightmares. One in particular recurred many times.
I was only eight, but somehow I was in the driver's seat of our family's old SUV. My arms were long enough to steady the wheel, but my legs didn't quite meet the pedals. It didn't matter though, since the car seemed content to continue on at a constant pace. I looked over and saw my mom in the passenger seat. Her face was a blurry likeness pieced together from the dozen or so picture's I'd seen of her over the years. I tried to bring her into focus, not only because I missed her dearly, but because she was speaking—pleading, even. She waved frantically at me, then brought her leg up and slammed it down on the floor mat several times. I didn't understand what had her so upset until she pointed out the front windshield, and I saw we were hurdling directly toward a giant tree that had fallen in the middle of the road.
Panicking, I stomped for the brake, but my seatbelt protested and pulled me back like an invigorated dog on a short leash. I sat up and tried clicking it off, but it wouldn't budge. My breaths became hollow cries, and I felt my heart beat against the bars of its bony prison. I grabbed the steering wheel and pulled it to the left, then right, attempting to swerve off the road, but it was as if whatever kind of glue was locking up the seatbelt was also fixing the steering wheel in place.
"Mom! what do I do!?" I yelled, tears streaming from my eyes. She was yelling back at me, but it was as if there was a divider between us, and neither of us could hear each other. I turned back just in time to see the giant Oak tree meet the front bumper, and then I jolted awake with a piercing pain in my chest that radiated up through my throat in the form of a giant scream. My little legs kicked under the covers and tears rained down on my pillow until my dad ran in and knelt at my bed.
"Lauren, are you okay? Did you have a bad dream?"
I grabbed my pillow and hugged it so my face was covered, then effused a "Mmm-hmm" in a long wheeze while rocking to either side.
"Oh, honey," he soothed and brushed my hair, then the tears from my face when I would allow it.
Time would pass in silence, and when I began to get the sense that my dad was ready to leave, I'd chirp out, "stay" in that way children do when they're embarrassed about wanting something.
"Always," my dad would reply; then he'd post up on the floor with my large tomato plushie as a pillow.
One night in particular, it was deep in the night, and I had woken to a tapping sound outside my window. I was so afraid that a monster had snuck into my room while I wasn't looking that I made him lay next to me and face outward. I'd peek my eyes open every minute or so to check and make sure my dad was there, staking out the room. Eventually, he rolled in close and said something that I still remember to this day.
"Hey, baby, guess what." he whispered.
"Mmm" I mumbled.
"I think you scared the monster away."
I tried to picture this through the fog of my fatigue. Something seemed off about the statement, like it wasn't logically possible, but before I could piece together the words to express that, my dad cut back in.
"It was scared because it realized you're a superhero. And you know what your greatest superpower is?"
I shook my head, making sure to rub my forehead against his shoulder so he could sense it in the dark room.
"You're greatest power is that you get to tell the monsters what to do. Because the monsters are only as strong as the stories you tell about them. And there's all kinds of stories. Happy ones. Sad ones. Scary ones. Tell me, this monster you think snuck in, would you say he's part of a scary story?"
"I don't know," I said, confused. "Maybe"
"Hmm," he hummed, contemplating. "Well, I want you to remember this. You have the ability to tell any kind of story you want. Maybe there are monsters, but that means there's heroes and angels, too, right?"
I was beginning to doze off to the comforting sound of my dad's deep voice, but I gave another affirmative "Mm-hmm".
"So, if you're ever scared, honey, just dream up a better story. A story that will bring you peace. Do you understand?"
But I was already out.
***
I woke up the next morning to the feeling that someone was in the hotel room with me. The drapes were drawn and the only sound was the AC unit blowing cold air, but when I looked toward the dark corner of the empty coat rack, my mind conjured the face of my dad, smiling at me, chanting that same, awful line—Oh, Lauren… you know who we are.
I was no longer a child, but it took a couple minutes of cold focus before I muscled the courage to ascend from the safety of my covers and flick on the lamp light. The small amber radius extended to where my dad's feet would have been if he was standing there. But there was no one. I let out a sigh and collapsed back onto the mattress, thinking back on all those years growing up. The same man who had helped me conquer my fear of the dark was now the monster hiding in its shadow.
I looked over my shoulder and saw the clock read 10:15. My meeting with Trent was in three hours. I moaned and stretched my arms back until they knocked against the headboard, then I collapsed back onto the mattress, meditating, gathering energy like a compressed spring. All at once, I jumped up and glided over to the drapes, opening them in a single, fluid motion. I grimaced at the sunlight, but the warmth felt good against my face. I stopped by the nightstand and gulped down the final few swigs of a bottle of Mello Yello that I had purchased from a vending machine the previous night, then undressed and hopped in the shower.
The warm water wasn't enough to wash away the previous night's memories. When I closed my eyes to lather my hair, I was back in my living room, standing opposite the demon that had taken on my dad's form. His smile. His laugh. It was like someone in my head was flipping a switch between the man I loved growing up and a terrible monster. But the fear was more powerful. I heard something drop onto the tile floor on the other side of the curtain. The noise made me gasp, and I opened my eyes while shampoo was still streaming down my face. I swiped the shampoo out of my now burning eyes and squinted at the curtain, trying to see through it, but I couldn't make anything out. "I-is anyone," I started, trembling, afraid to finish the sentence. I reached out and pinched the end of the curtain. My heart was in overdrive. I swallowed, then pulled it toward me and peeked out. I scanned the room, but I couldn't see anything out of place.
It wasn't until after I finished showering and wound myself up in one of the hotel's too-small towels that I saw what had made the noise. I bent down and picked up the stub of a razor blade that had fallen onto the tile right next to the puffy, gray shower rug. It wasn't mine, and I was pretty sure hotels didn't keep unguarded razor blades just laying around. When I held it up, it occurred to me that if it had simply fallen a few inches to the left, it would have been buried in the rug, and perhaps I would have stepped on it. I stared at myself in its steely reflection. Cold. Lonely. Small. What if I—was all I was able to think before the blade blinked out of my hand.
I threw on some clothes, packed up the few belongings I had into my purse, then checked out of my room. I didn't feel safe going back home after what happened, but I also didn't want to go anywhere else. I got in my car and drove aimlessly up and down the town's streets, focusing only on the car ahead of me. Anytime I started to travel down an avenue of thought, I'd make a turn, or speed up, or hit the brakes: anything to keep my mind distracted. It was sweltering outside, but I'd turn the heat on for minutes at a time until I felt drenched, then toggle max AC until I was cool, then back to heat. I repeated the basic driving tenet "10 and 2", "10 and 2", "10 and 2" like a mantra—a chant to focus my attention on a single point, and then I pictured that point disappearing. I began to think that maybe I wanted to disappear.
I fully intended to keep going that way until 1:00, but after about thirty minutes, my meandering route had led me to St. Mark's Catholic Church, where a large group of people were gathered around a long line of tables in front of the building. I slowed down. At the front of the venue was a large, white cardboard sign which read, "Plant a Seed, Share the Joy". I wasn't sure what that meant, but my boredom had come to a head, and I rationalized that if there's any place on God's green earth that would be safe, it was this one. I parked along the closest side-street, then walked over to the church.
Rows of white tables were covered with cardboard boxes filled with small plants that were wrapped up in individual paper pots. I watched from a distance as people behind the tables carefully removed the plants, one by one, and offered them to passersby. I continued down the line, a sheep in the herd, and allowed myself to sink into childhood memories. I had somehow made it out the other end near the Narthex when I heard a woman's voice call to me.
"Hey, deary, have you gotten one yet?"
I turned and saw a small, gray-haired lady with rose-colored glasses. "Oh, no," I started, attempting to decline, then paused. The old lady grabbed one of the plants and held it out for me.
"Here," she said. "Come on, I won't bite."
As far as you know, I thought, and stumbled forward with a sigh. "Thanks," I said and took the plant. "What is this all for, anyway?"
"It's a giveaway," the old woman responded. "Staff have been growing these plants—tomatoes and garlic, mainly—so they could offer them to members of the Parish. The idea is to have the members grow the produce, then donate it to St. Mark's Food Pantry to give to those in need."
"Oh, that's actually pretty cool." I replied and inspected my plant which was at present nothing more than a small green stem. "So which kind is this one?"
"That one is—" the old lady stopped and inspected the other plants near where she had grabbed mine—"tomato."
"Tomato," I repeated. "Well, thanks again."
"Of course, dear." the old lady beamed. "We're all responsible for each other."
I nodded, then continued back through the crowd toward my car when, through the large vestibule windows, I saw a Priest speaking to a young couple. It had been a little over a decade since I had attended a service (I stopped going during High School when I started studying other religions), and I didn't recognize this Priest. He was short (just over five feet tall), bald, and African American. He wore the customary black robe and white collar, and there was something in his smile and the way seemed to be affirming the couple that made me yearn to speak with him. I considered for a moment, a bit embarrassed to be stepping back into church after all this time, but the thought of being able to burn ten minutes talking with someone who might have some insight into my situation was too tempting to pass up.
I waited near a portrait of Mary Magdalene, my tomato plant in hand, staring off at the pristine series of stained glass images portraying the death and resurrection of Jesus. About a minute in, the Priest met my eyes; he smiled, his way of telling me he knew I was waiting, then finished up with the couple and made his way over. He had a bit of an accent when he spoke—it was Ugandan, from best I could tell—and a proclivity for laughing at the end of his sentences.
"Hello, Miss, I don't believe I've had the privilege," he said and held out his hand. He leaned in as he spoke, and his smile tugged on the corners of his eyes which were already marked with use.
I shook his hand and returned what I'm sure was a weak smile. "No, I don't think so. My name's Lauren. I used to come here when I was little. It's—been a while."
"Well, I see you picked a good day to visit. If you're into gardening, that is." He remarked with a laugh and gestured toward the plant. "It's nice to meet you, Lauren. My name's Martin—Father Martin, if you prefer."
"Father Martin," I repeated, "I have a friend named Martin. It's a good name."
He laughed and said, "Thank you, I'll pass that one along to my mother. She loves the praise."
I laughed back. He carried himself in such a carefree way that I was put immediately at ease. Almost to the point where I forgot what I wanted to talk to him about. "Um," I started, attempting to word my question in a way that didn't sound like I needed psychiatric help. "I have a couple of religious questions for you, if you have time."
"That's what I'm for. Ask away."
"They're about… miracles. Like the ones in the Bible. I was wondering, do you think that miracles still happen today?"
"Miracles, huh," he started. "You mean like water into wine?"
"Kind of, yeah,"
"Hmm…" he contemplated. "Well, I haven't seen them, myself. You know, I may be a Priest, but I also have a degree in Physics. I think God made the world according to laws, right? But I do think God has the power to intervene. Yes. I just have never seen it… like … you know, the biblical type of miracles. To me, there are miracles happening all around us—miracles we can't see."
"Exactly," I responded, thinking about how no one else could see the blinks, "those kinds of miracles. What are those miracles we can't see?"
One of Father Martin's eyebrows raised and he rubbed his chin. "Well, I think the greatest miracle is the miracle of God's love which was perfected in Christ and offered to each of us. It's his power to heal even the most troubled mind. By coming into alignment with God's will for us, we can see the true purpose of this existence."
No, he's not getting it, I thought. I scrambled to my other entry-point. "What about the story of Job? God made a bet with the Devil that Job would stay faithful to him no matter what the Devil did to him. Do you think that kind of situation is possible?"
Father Martin's expression drooped into a concerned frown. "There's quite the difference between miracles and the story of Job. I suppose I see what you're getting at, though. Job's suffering is in some ways the antithesis to positive miracles. In this life, we are tested, sometimes to the point of losing everything, but even that person who has more reason to hate God than anyone else can once again find peace and eternal happiness through faith. In fact, it's often the person who is lowest in the pit of suffering that needs the Light of Christ more than anyone else."
I thought back on the first night that I prayed. It was in my moment of greatest helplessness that I reached out to God, and I thought I had found my answer in Him. But now, after what happened last night, after all these years of chaos—not merely losing things that were important to me, but my very sanity—I needed more than just blind faith. I couldn't just sit idly by and hope things would get better. I smiled at the Priest and said, "Thank you, Father, this has been very insightful."
"Of course, sister. I'm sorry if I couldn't have been of more help."
"No, I think I understand now. I've been… wrestling with something, and I think God wants me to confront it. I think I've been running away and hiding from it for so long that I'd convinced myself it disappeared."
Father Martin nodded in understanding. "Well, in that case, will you let me leave you with a prayer?"
I was a bit taken off guard by the request, but I accepted. "Sure, Father."
I watched as he made the sign of the cross, then he lifted his hands and closed his eyes. "Dear God, I am so happy to have had the privilege of meeting with Lauren today, especially on a day such as this where we are offering gifts for those who need them. You have heard her desire to confront the things that are troubling her. I ask that you bless her with strength and peace and a clear conscience, that she may overcome these challenges. God, bless us with your spirit, that we may see your hand in our lives. Amen."
"Amen," I said.
As I was leaving, Father Martin called out to me and said, "Oh, just so you know, this Friday at 7 we are having a barbecue at the Parish Center. I would love to see you there, if you're able and wanting."
Turning back, I smiled and said, "Oh, ok, thanks Father. I'll think about it."
The priest nodded, and with a smile, he sent me off.
***
I walked into the Deli at 1:00 on the dot. The customers who had arrived for the lunch rush were already cleaning up their trash and heading out. I dodged past a few of them on my way down the long, narrow path leading to the front counter. While I waited behind a couple of elderly folk who were picking which soup they wanted to pair with their Ultimate Grilled Cheese, I looked around for Trent. He hadn't sent me a picture or any way of contacting him throughout the day, so I wasn't sure what I was looking for, but I figured I'd see some man half-hidden behind a newspaper, scouting me out. Maybe I watch too many movies, I thought.
"Ahem, ma'am. You're up." croaked the teenager behind the register.
"Oh, right, sorry" I replied and stepped up to the counter. "Uhh," I muttered, scanning the menu for something that looked edible. "Could I just get…" I made sure to mouth every syllable as they were words of their own.
"We have a deal—the try two combo. Sandwich and a soup for $9.99." the cashier repeated for what was probably the fiftieth time that day.
"Yes, that sounds good. I'll do the Italian sandwich and potato soup. And a drink, please."
After I paid for the food, I wandered around the tables, hoping to find someone who looked like a Trent. I was picturing a short guy, runner's build, with long brown hair, tucked somewhere neatly away in the corner. So I was not prepared when the Hulk's stunt double growled my name from a table smack dab in the middle of the restaurant. He had a pale, square face that was spotted with freckles and a sinking property that comes with the lethal combination of stress and age. His hair was relatively short. Probably it was brown or auburn, but since it was slicked back, it looked almost black. And he wore what looked like janitor coveralls. There was even a cloth tag pinned to his chest which read, "Trent".
"Lauren?" He repeated.
"Yes, that's me." I said and took a seat across from him. I saw a brown tray on the table in front of him, and on the tray was a large, white soup bowl. It was empty and beginning to crust along the edges. He must have been here for some time already. "I didn't know where you'd be, so I was worried we might miss each other. I'm glad you found me though." I said while looking over Trent more thoroughly. His large hands were stretched out in front of him on the table. He wasn't wearing a ring, so he probably wasn't married. And his face, it was stern. He seemed like a no-bullshit kind of guy. Then I saw his eyes. They were sapphire blue—probably the most stunning I'd ever seen.
"We only spoke on the internet, so I hope you don't mind, but I usually run a preliminary test on anyone I meet who claims to have abilities such as yours." Trent said while reaching into his pocket and removing a device that had the size and shape of an electric razor. "All you have to do is look into it. It takes maybe five seconds. Ten at most."
"Oh, um, sure," I said reluctantly. "Do I just—" I asked while reaching for the device.
Trent clicked a button and released the cylindrical head which opened, revealing a glass circle about the size of an iris. "I'll hold it, just look into the center. A red cross should appear, then it'll take the picture."
"Okay…" I replied and did as he instructed, leaning my head forward to look into the device. Sure enough, a red cross appeared. "Is it…" was all I got out before the light turned blue and I saw a gray fog disperse and billow throughout the inside of the tube, extending for what I perceived to be miles. My jaw went slack and I couldn't breathe for maybe five seconds. Then Trent reshuttered the device and turned it over.
"Damn, 72." He said with a hint of shock. "That's the highest I've scanned to date." He looked back at me, more relaxed now, and muttered to himself. "How have you been able to function for this long? At this level, you should basically be half in, half out."
I rubbed my forehead, feeling a mixture of pain and frustration and fatigue and impatience which all poured out at once. "Listen, Trent," I said as sternly as I could, "I came here because you said you knew what was wrong with me and that you could help me. I get you have to make sure I am who I said I am, but now it's your turn to pay up. How do I know you know anything about my condition? You said my mom might still be alive. What does that even mean? I saw her die right in front of me. I want answers."
I waited for Trent to respond, but he only lifted his head. I turned around and saw a girl holding a tray of food.
"Um, hi, sorry to interrupt. I have an order 36 for Lauren."
"Oh, yes, thank you." I said. The worker placed the tray down on the table in front of me, and when I saw the food, I suddenly realized how hungry I was. Trent must have also realized this, because he folded his arms and said, "go ahead and eat. I'll explain while you do."
I wanted to protest, but my salivating mouth made other plans. "Fine," I said. I grabbed the metal spoon off the tray and started on the soup, bracing against the steaming heat of the potato chunks.
As I ate, Trent moved all of the items on his tray off to the side, then he flipped the tray over so it was raised slightly off the table. He took his cup and placed it face down in the center, then he rolled up a few of his used, blue mayonnaise packets and charted a track across the tray.
"What are you doing?" I croaked out between bites.
Trent ignored me and continued by ripping up a napkin into strips and placing them alongside the mayonnaise packets. Finally, he snapped ten toothpicks in half and stuck them in the tomb of a dozen overlayed napkins. "It's your diorama," he said at last.
"It's my what?"
"From the story you sent me. Your diorama. When I read about it, it gave me a good idea of how to explain the 'blinking'."
I pointed at the cup in the center. "Is that supposed to be a pyramid? Because I'm pretty sure you're in the wrong geometric neighborhood with that one."
"It's an analogy," he said.
"Of an analogy," I quipped back.
"Look," he picked out one of the toothpicks and held it out in front of me. "This could be a person, an animal, a crowbar—whatever you want. The point is, this diorama is a stand in for our universe. This is everything that exists, that we can see. Okay?"
"Okay,"
"Now, me," Trent placed a hand over his heart. "I'm not in the diorama. I don't exist in the universe."
"In the universe where a cup is a pyramid, or the actual universe?" I said, unable to control myself.
Trent grimaced.
"Sorry, keep going. I get it."
"Things pop into," Trent threw the toothpick back onto the tray, "or out of," he picked the toothpick back up, "our universe at will, based on forces," he patted his chest again, "that exist in other realms" he gestured to the room, "that are connected to our universe," he tapped two fingers against the tray. "These things could be objects, like, say, a toothpick, or entities, like the one you encountered yesterday. The blinking experience that you described aligns with the typical experience of a moderate Antenna. That's what I call people like us—Antennas; because we can pick up on signals others can't."
"We—you mean you see the blinking, too?"
"Yes, but not to the same extent as you. If all the blinks are gathered in a giant picture that you can see, I'm traversing the image through binoculars, maybe even a microscope, depending on where we are."
I thought about this. I guess it was possible there were other people like me out there, but since I had never met anyone, I didn't really consider the idea until now. And then for him to say my ability was somehow much stronger than his… "But," I started, "I haven't even seen that many blinks since I was a child. It's just more focused and malicious now."
"Yeah," Trent scratched his head, "that's the thing that got me really interested in you. Somehow you seem to be able to control it without gear, just by praying. And, look, that's all well and good, but I don't want to give you the false impression that I'm some kind of religious leader. I like to look for logical, scientific explanations for things. So that's the frame I'm coming at this from."
I took a sip from my drink. "That's fine," I said, "the truth is that's why I reached out to you in the first place. I wanted an explanation I could understand. An explanation that was directly related to what I'm going through."
"Then we should get along just fine."
I was scooping out the last potato that was stubbornly gliding along the bottom of the bowl when, out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of the old man from the line shooting up from his bench and standing in army-erect form. I felt a tingling sensation tickle the back of my neck. I didn't want to turn toward him. I knew what I'd see if I did. "Trent," I whispered, trying to tip him off.
"Huh?" he grunted. Then when he saw my expression, he snuck his right hand under the table and said, "Do you see it? Is it here?"
I cocked my head to the left, signaling toward the old man that was now facing us, but Trent didn't seem to notice him: his eyes just kept scanning the entire front of the restaurant. Then I saw the old man take a step in our direction.
"Lauuurennnn, oh Lauuuurennnn, I've been looking for you, Laurenn." The old man said in a low, gravelly voice that gave the impression he was gurgling liquid tar. I turned and saw his face. It was cold and expressionless, and a butter knife was poking out of his left fist. When I met his eyes, he smiled that horrible smile."You're a slippery bitch, you know that?" He spat. "Why can't you just stay put? Don't you get tired of running from your old friend? Or have you forgotten about me?"
"Trent," I mumbled out. "Right there."
"And this guy. You think he can help you? He's only here to help himself. If that's not clear, you really are a lost little lamb."
"Quick, give me your hand," Trent instructed.
I was silent, my eyes still pinned to the old man.
"Tsk-tsk-tsk," the demon possessed senior wagged his finger at me, taking a step, then another step, shortening the distance as much as he could while I was entranced. Then, suddenly, he sprinted forward at a speed that shouldn't have been possible for a man his age.
"Trent!" I screamed.
"Lauren, give me your hand!"
I spun around and grabbed Tren'ts outstretched arm just as the old man lifted the butter knife over his head like a pickaxe. Then I saw Trent pull out what looked like a toy gun from under the table and point it at the demon.
"Got you," Trent remarked. I braced for a gunshot, but there was no noise. After a couple seconds, I looked back and saw the old man sitting in the booth opposite his wife, his hand tremoring as he reached for his large drink.
"What did you?" I asked, but Trent was already pulling me out of my seat. "Come on, we have to go," he said, "the effect is temporary, he'll be—"
Before he could get out the last word, I saw the cup-pyramid on Trent's tray blink out of existence. The sound of a plate shattering rang out from a table up ahead. The lone woman standing there slowly turned around, smiling, with a fork in one hand and a piece of the broken plate in the other. Trent shot her with the toy gun as we ran past and then barreled through the front door.
"Where—are we going?" I asked between gasps.
"My van. It's loaded with kit."
"And then where?"
"Your house" replied Trent who stashed his gun back in his pocket and took out a key fob.
"My house? But that's where he—it appeared."
"Yeah, and that's where you banished it."
Trent waved me into the passenger seat of his RAM 3500 Promaster. I noticed right away the dash which looked more like it belonged in a new limited-edition EV than a cargo van. The ignition kicked on automatically, and I heard the beep of a sonar ping precede an English woman's voice calling out like some auxed-in GPS saying, "scanning for anomalies". Trent shifted the van into gear, and I heard the wheels sputter as we accelerated backward and whipped out of the small parking lot.
"What's your address?" Trent asked. I gave it to him, and then speaking to his dash, he said, "Car, take us to ****."
"Redirecting to ****," replied the British woman. "Currently detecting 31 novel emergences. Updating pings every 300 milliseconds. Chance of contact: 0.23%"
"What does that mean?" I asked.
"The van has sensor equipment which can detect blinks. It's much more accurate than either of us."
"And it sees 31?"
"Yes, that's not as many as it sounds." Trent said and tore past a car that blinked out of existence right as we turned onto the main street.
We drove on for another couple minutes, the Englishwoman updating the number of novel emergences every ten seconds or so. Her constant babbling eventually became a comforting background noise, and I was able to think again.
"In the message you sent me, you said my mom may still be alive." I looked at Trent to see if he would react to me bringing her up, but he remained stolid. "What did you mean by that?"
Trent thumbed his steering wheel. "I shouldn't have sent that." He said at last.
"Shouldn't have… What do you mean? You can't just say that now."
Trent took one hand off the wheel and turned toward me. "Look, we're going back to your house because we need to determine your origin point. All Antennas have them. It's a place of high energy where many realms intersect, kind of like a station, and it's the place where you first acquired your abilities. Based on everything you wrote, I'm guessing that place is where the forest where the accident happened when you were a young child. But I need to confirm it. Once I confirm that that's the place…" Trent hesitated.
"Then… what? You want us to go back there? To the place where my mom died, or at least where I think she died until you told me she might be alive but are now taking it back? That place?"
"It's the only way to—"
"Now detecting novel agent," the Englishwoman interrupted. We both perked up as she gave another update. "Net anomalies: 437. Novel Agents: 1. Chance of contact: 78%."
"Shit," Trent muttered. "Car, course correct."
"Attempting course correct to avoid collision. Attempts made: 10, 50, 75, 79… No alternate route detected. Chance of contact: 96%."
"Time until contact?"
"Time until contact: 13 seconds."
I shuddered. Looking out the front windshield, I saw cars pop out of existence left and right, opening up a clear path to the four way intersection ahead. In a blink, the streetlights all turned green, and then they vanished completely. It was as if the entire world was being stripped down bare, and all that remained was the road, boxed in by the rows of buildings along either side. In the distance I could see a large tanker barreling toward us.
"Trent,"
"I know," he replied and clicked a different button on the console which opened a new toggle for the shifter labeled "TD". He pushed the stick forward, engaging the new mode, then pressed the accelerator all the way to the ground. "You're going to want to hold on."
"What are you doing!?" I yelled, grabbing onto my seatbelt.
"No time to explain. Car, release phase lock."
"Phase lock released."
I watched in horror as the color drained from the road and buildings and sky, transforming it all into a dim tunnel, with only the headlights of the oncoming semi-truck visible up ahead. I had the sudden thought that this was all a dream, just like the ones from my childhood. I looked over and no longer saw Trent, but my mother. And then I realized this wasn't a dream. This was hell. I was being forced to relive the worst moment of my life, over and over again. Just when I thought I had escaped, I was pulled right back into that car, helpless as we approached but never arrived at our impending fate. I closed my eyes right as the lights engulfed the windshield and braced for the usual pain in my chest, for the feeling of breaking.
But it didn't come.
"Shift" was the last word out of Trent's mouth, and then I was infused with the sensation of being at the pinnacle of a roller coaster. I was suspended there for what felt like hours, but somehow I knew that not even a second had passed. Everything inside the van: the dashboard, windows, ceiling, doors, even Trent himself began to radiate enigmatic particles. They were a mass of constant motion, like raindrops falling through the air but never landing. I looked down at my hand, but it was gone. Diffused into an unknowable number of untraceable particles. The world outside, once devoid of color, was now nothing but color. When I tried to focus on a particular spot in the infinite geometric folds of whatever realm we were traversing through, I could sometimes detect a trace of our world.
The old lady from the church. She appeared as if through a window, standing behind a table, holding out a plant. Only this image was so much brighter. And the plant she was holding was pure gold. Then I'd catch a glimpse of the razor blade. It was large, many hundreds of times larger than the van, and surrounded by darkness. These ghostly images appeared like holograms or reflections that caught the light at just the right angle, then dissipated.
I stayed there, looping between the archetypes of my life for a long, long time.
***
I knew we were returning when I felt the first sense of motion. Breath filled my lungs for the first time in what felt like a day. I blinked. And then we were back in town, driving down the same road with the blue sky above. People were jogging on the sidewalk past the little street shops. The streetlights were active. I checked the side mirror and saw the tanker had just passed by.
I looked over at Trent, who met my eyes. We shared a look of knowing, and unknowing. For some reason, that was enough, and we continued on in silence.
***
We agreed to stay the night at my house.
Trent had parked a couple blocks away in front of a couple vacant houses so as not to arouse suspicion from the neighbors. Then he lugged a large duffel bag with his equipment in and set it up in the living room. He scanned the scrapbook which contained the newspaper clippings from the accident several times and confirmed that was likely my 'origin point'. I simply nodded and then went back out onto the back porch. I sat there for hours, basking in the sun. Something had changed in the past day, but I couldn't pick out what it was. Too much had happened. I had too little time to process any of it.
When the sun set, I went inside and Trent told me about his plans for the next couple days. He said he needed to run a few errands in the morning, then meet up with a couple of his associates. After that, we could begin our drive to Southern Illinois. He said it was likely that the entity that was chasing me had first tied itself to me during my childhood accident. For whatever reason, we came into contact, and now it didn't want to leave. Trent would help me get rid of it. He didn't go into many details regarding how that was to happen, but I don't think in my tired state I would have been able to understand much anyway. He had a plan, and that was enough for me. At least for a while.
After our meeting, I made sure Trent had enough pillows and blankets like a proper host, then I retired to my room. I laid down on my twin bed and stared up at the cream-colored ceiling. Then I turned and saw the participation awards for my junior soccer league stashed on my dresser. I pictured myself on the field, running with the ball, out ahead of everyone except the goalie. I took a shot, but it was blocked. Then I ran back to defend. How can such a simple game be so much fun? Was the last thought I had before drifting off to sleep.
I woke up only once during the night. It was still dark out. The room was warm despite the small, flower petal fan churning away, shifting the hot, humid air from one pocket of the room to the next. I waited in apprehension, sensing that something had disturbed me. I saw the tomato plushie peeking out at me from the slightly ajar closet door where I had stashed it so many years ago. I felt like I was missing something. Something important.
And then I heard it.
There was a tapping at my window.

some of the 30Ds i have fit perfectly and feel comfortable for at least a few hours but others dig in like crazy and i think i need a cup size bigger because they’re too tight (not the band just the cups with the band test) even though my underbust measurements are just below 30 and i guess this is why i get 30D-30DD from the calculator but its so annoying because i have to return these bras that dont fit ughhhh my shoulders and ribcage hurt :)

According to the app for the Bacon Mac & Cheese the cup is 520 calories and the bowl is 1030 calories. That makes the bowl double the size of the cup.
But reading posts here the cup is 8 oz and the bowl is 12 oz which is only 50% more. If thats correct then shouldn't the calories for the bowl be about 700?

I'm 38 years old, first pregnancy, IVF, 29 weeks, and I am pretty sure I'll never do this again. Yes, I'd do it again if it was for my little boy who I already love so much even in my belly, but I don't want to have a second child, at least not this way.
The first trimester was pretty crappy, but it was just nausea, and what made it really bad was not knowing how long it would last. The 2nd trimester was great. The moment I hit week 28, everything suddenly went downhill. It's as if my belly grew 2 sizes overnight. Walking is torture, and my vagina hurts like hell all the time. I'm always constipated, short of breath and no position, sitting down or laying down, is comfortable. I can't sleep at night. I don't have nausea, but I have this weird aversion towards lots of foods. Eating just never sits right. I'm huge. I was 75kg at the beginning, now I'm probably around 100. No bras fit me, because my boobs aren't super big, so the cup size is still only a B, but even the largest size they have doesn't go around. I feel disgusting and unappealing, like a whale. My husband doesn't want to have sex, which is fine, and I know it's because of the baby, not because he doesn't find me attractive in my current repugnant state, but it still hurts my ego. People keep commenting on how much weight I've put on. I still have 12 weeks to go and I'm worried about what kind of a Tammy Slaton I will turn into by then. Will I need a forklift to get around? All throughout the 2nd trimester, I was really active, hiking, biking, walking my dogs twice a day. Now walking down the block to the store to buy my snacks and be judged is enough to make me cry in pain. I'm sorry, but my vagina literally hurts from walking.
So I'm wondering, have any of you experienced something so bad during your pregnancies, that you actually went and got your tubes tied right after the baby was born? Again, I love this baby, but I feel like there has to be some sort of balance in life, and I also love myself enough not to put my body through this again willingly in the future, especially since I'm not super young anymore. I never struggled with weight gain before, I was always pretty slim and fit. It's not so much an aesthetic preference as that it feels bad to carry around this weight.
This is bad for me, to be clear, I do not mean this to be a fatphobic post! I find all the voluptuous and fat ladies out there who are happy and proud of their bodies incredibly beautiful, and you do you. This is only a problem for me personally. Please try to be understanding and don't rip me apart in the comments....

Got notice of prediabetes and high cholesterol from my doctor's visit, and have a strong family history of both. Have been trying to lose weight (25lbs down so far) & build muscle as well and have a lot of food intolerances (cannot eat alliums, dairy, stone fruits, tomatoes, beans) so it's been hard, but is this diet okay?
Breakfast: large black coffee (or a latte w/ oat milk), 1/2 cup overnight oats with blueberries, flax seed, chia seed, psyllium husk. made w/ 1 cup water & splash of unsweetened almond milk. Sometimes w/ hemp seeds or 1/2 tbsp of sugar free maple syrup.
Lunch: usually a big salad, so 1.5 cups spinach, 1/2 cup raw chickpeas, 1 cup roasted broccoli (in avocado oil), avocado, raw bell peppers, lemon juice
Dinner: I get really lazy here cuz I'm usually coming back from the gym, so it's a block (or 1/2 block) of tofu with soy sauce & steamed broccoli. If I have time, I'll pan fry salmon in a little avocado oil.
For snacks I usually have dates (5-6), raw almonds (serving size, which is 12), or 1/4 cup unsweetened almond milk yogurt. Def snacking less tho since my meals are all p filling.

Bought some bras, and some mostly fit, and some don’t fit. I ordered some bras in a 28" band and others in a 30" to compare (also ordered what I could just based on what was available at the time).
Looking for some recommendations on what to try next and ideas on what sizes to order if possible. I prefer a seamed cup but preferably something that doesn’t have really thick/strong seams that would show drastically under lighter fabrics this summer. Thank you in advance for the advice.
Calculator size:
US 28DDD
UK/EU 28 E/F
loose underbust: 27.5"
snug underbust: 26.5"
tight underbust: 25.75"
standing bust: 32.5"
leaning bust: 34"
lying down bust: 32"
Shape:
Still figuring it out…all I know for sure is I have very soft tissue.
Decent Fit:
Cleo Alexis, 28F

• Band is really tight, I need to use an extender for it to fit. Still feels quite snug even after the loosest setting on the extender.
• Straps feel comfortable
• Cup feels a bit tight, some slight quadding. Unsure if it’s just because of my soft tissue or if the cup is too small
• judging by the slight red marks after wearing, the wire follows my breast closely
• Gore tacks
• The fit is very projected and uplifted, it almost makes my breasts look narrow? shape is slightly pointy/conical but maybe I'm just not used to this shape on me
• Probably my best fit, still not 100% sure about it since the band feels really firm/slightly uncomfortable even with the extender (maybe I’m just not used to firm bands?) and the lace cups feel a bit itchy.

Fantasie Illusion Side Support, 30E

• Band is stretchier than Cleo, easily can hook on the last row. Maybe a pinch loose?
• Straps were adjusted and made shorter to fill out the cups a bit better
• Some wrinkles in the top of the cup, also a slight bit of puckering near the armpit
• judging by the slight red marks after wearing, the wire follows my breast closely, although the wires seem wider than the Cleo Alexis and maybe a pinch too wide overall? it also feels like the wire comes up a bit high in the center.
• Beautiful lifted/projected shape that looks soft and natural
• I kept this one because I do love the shape despite the fit issues, and the fabric is just really soft.

Poor Fit :
Panache Envy, 28F

• Band was really tight, even with extender it felt a bit tighter than the Cleo Alexis
• Straps were comfortable
• Cup felt tight/constricting? but no quadding or spilling out from anywhere.
• Wires seemed to fit
• Gore tacked
• Exaggerated conical/pointy shape, came to a point right where horizontal seam was
• Returned because I didn’t like the shape, the seams were really visible under clothes, and it overall felt constricting even though it seemed to mostly “fit”

Fantasie Aura Moulded Bra, 30DD

• Band fit similar fit to the Illusion. Very stretchy, maybe a pinch loose?
• Straps felt really firm
• Lots of gaping near the top of the cup. I only seemed to fill out the bottom half.
• Wire seemed a bit big for me, it came up high in the armpit and also in the center
• Gore tacked
• flattened shape, cup gaping showed through on clothes.
• Returned because I didn’t like the shape, top of the cups did not fit at all.

Natori Cherry Blossom, 30DD

• Band felt tight, even on the loosest setting.
• Straps felt comfortable
• Cup felt very tight, quadding down the middle
• Wires dug in under my breast
• A flatter shape overall, it seemed to minimize and push everything flat? and then spilled out a bit down the center.
• I loved the design of this (it was one of my first nicer bras) but I rarely wore it because it felt so uncomfortable. I ended up selling it.

1/2 cup chocolate chips = how many bars of Baker’s?
Old time Bourbon Chocolate Pecan Pie recipe calls for 1/2 cup chocolate chips. All I have is Baker’s bar chocolate. How do I use it in this recipe? Simple question I’m too zonked to figure it out, apparently. I have a migraine and it’s our Anniversary today so please help. Thanks!
Edit: word