A couple of things I would like to leave you with as I go offline (traveling) for a few days. Ponder and comment.
#1. My boobs are killing me smallz. Not like "my boobs are smothering me in my sleep" kinda killing, but like "my boobs make me WANT to smother myself in my sleep." I am 27 years old.
Okay fine! I am 31. But my chi chi's? My fun bags are those of an 87 year old. An 87 year old that has never seen a bra a day in her life. I am thankful on a daily basis that I was not alive and protesting in the age of feminism...where I wouldn't have been ABLE to wear a bra. Man...that would have been unpleasant for everyone involved.
Some day kids...these babies are getting lifted. If I didn't honor Heather's never uttered (ha...I said uttered and I am talking about boobs) but most likely implied sentiments that I can't be naked on my blog, I would post pics of these bad boys. When I bend over and they are free....well...the old sock with a tennis ball in the bottom analogy always pops into my mind.
And yes. There are solutions that are non-surgical. For one, I could just always close my eyes and never look. Two, I could never bend over.
But see, sometimes I do peek. And sometimes during sexy time I can almost...I said almost...get distracted with all of their dangle.
Why are none of you plastic surgeons? WHY? Maybe I will start a paypal account or fundraiser? I will call it Tits For...I don't know. You guys come up with something catchy!
The next subject for discussion is:
I think in my former life I lived through, or possibly died in, the Great Depression. On the for real tip, it's like Grapes of Wrath up in my mind. I still have the famine mentality...where I feast just because...and here is the real question...
WHAT IF I RUN OUT OF FOOD? WHAT IF I DON'T GET A CHANCE TO EAT AGAIN FOR...ah hell...AT LEAST 2 HOURS?!
Seriously. This is what got my el-big-o and what the band helps me from returning too. I just eat for the sake of eating. I eat, or want to eat, whether I am hungry or not. I eat because I have this irrational fear I may not be able to for awhile.
My grandma (Irene, hence my middle name) had this mentality when she was alive....as some of your grandparents might who were born during the great depression. Except she didnt horde or eat food, she shopped. And then had like 3 blenders...never opened...stored somewhere. Need a steamer shark? She probably had two of those. They bought because they could...and came from a time when they couldnt.
But...I never came from a time where I couldnt' eat.
WHY ARE NONE OF YOU THERAPISTS? I'm going to have to start fundraising for that as well.
Do you ever want to say really hateful things to people on facebook? Like...they annoy you to no end? I can't say them here either...DAMN IT!
Thankfully I am perfect. Although I have been told that my posts on Heather's wall can induce feelings of nausea.
My connecting flight tomorrow is through Atlanta. I consider the ATL airport, the first gateway to Hell. It's big, and if there is so much as a bird passing gas in a 30 mile radius of the airspace...flights will be delayed. I have 35 minutes between flights. I am supposed to arrive in business casual, but I have decided to fly L.A. shiek. I describe this a relaxed yet hip. Perhaps I will wear sunglasses INSIDE the airport. That would be mysterious. OOOOh....or maybe an eye patch. Eye patches are always hot.
Wish my luck!
Until my return....keep fighting the good fight!