Comfortably uncomfortable

When I wake up, I notice it’s raining again, just like last friday. I haven’t got any classes today, but as I have got a lot of studying to do, I get out of bed and wander into the shower. After lifelessly standing there for about ten minutes, I come into terms with the fact the hot water will once again fail to cure me of the slight hangover that marks most of my friday mornings, so I turn off the taps and walk to my room. I make sure to lock the door behind me and open the drawer beneath my bed. I assemble an outfit for the next couple of hours and start by putting on my bra. Next, I take the panties I’ll be wearing and, after squishing my genitals into place, I quickly put them on. After hoisting my skinny jeans over my not-so-feminine mountainbiking-thighs and putting on a top and a blazer, I take an apple, turn on my laptop and sit down at my table. Now, even with my genitals being squished even further, the underwires of my bra carving into my ribcage and the label of my top itching away on a place I can’t reach, I am more comfortable than I have been for the last couple of days.