Out-fitting...
Yesterday, I left my boss' apartment to run out for a quick iced coffee. It was sunny and super windy and, although it had been drizzling in the morning, I didn't consider for a second grabbing my umbrella. Like I said...it was sunny. I paid for my coffee and left the deli and just as I was pushing the straw through the top of my drink, I felt the first drop. Uh oh. SUDDENLY, there came a huge gust of wind, leaves and street dust flew into the air and my eyeballs and then TORRENTIAL DOWNPOUR! A hurricane! Twister! It was like being thrown into a pool. "Oh dear, that sucks," you might remark. Yes, it did. But what's more? I was wearing a white dress. Allll white. I don't have to tell you what that looked like. So yeah, you're welcome weird dude sitting under the awning of that nasty looking Chinese food place, yes, those were Victoria's Secret.
Cut to:
Today, I smartly chose to walk out of my house in an American Apparel body suit. Yes, I said body suit. The main issue I have with these shirts... leotards... whatever they are, is that they're pretty much see through. For that reason, I've taken to wearing these, let's call'em bra pads, to cover what needs to be shielded from the eyes of weird creepy people who stare at my boobs. Here's the problem, they don't breathe, at all. It's kind of like I shoved insulation into my shirt. Now, I have awkward under-boob sweat and the marks on my body suit are just not becoming.
Uh huh, yeah, that's a picture of my boobs sweating. I look like I should be sitting by the lake, barefoot, cussing at squirrels and at least four Miller Lights into my day. What was I thinking this morning? I suppose I should just suck it up, give into my trashy side that is obviously trying its best to break loose, and invest in some flared jeggings.
I DID have a tuna fish sandwich for lunch. Check that off the "eatin' trashy" list.
Cut to:
Today, I smartly chose to walk out of my house in an American Apparel body suit. Yes, I said body suit. The main issue I have with these shirts... leotards... whatever they are, is that they're pretty much see through. For that reason, I've taken to wearing these, let's call'em bra pads, to cover what needs to be shielded from the eyes of weird creepy people who stare at my boobs. Here's the problem, they don't breathe, at all. It's kind of like I shoved insulation into my shirt. Now, I have awkward under-boob sweat and the marks on my body suit are just not becoming.
Uh huh, yeah, that's a picture of my boobs sweating. I look like I should be sitting by the lake, barefoot, cussing at squirrels and at least four Miller Lights into my day. What was I thinking this morning? I suppose I should just suck it up, give into my trashy side that is obviously trying its best to break loose, and invest in some flared jeggings.
I DID have a tuna fish sandwich for lunch. Check that off the "eatin' trashy" list.
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