Not in the sense of, "Wow, please get that woman a bikini, so that we can all further enjoy the fabulousness which is her physique."
It's more along the lines of, "Huh, I need to join some undiscovered tribe of people who have never seen the 21st century ideal of feminine beauty, and who are perfectly happy to welcome a slightly overweight woman who needs to sit around in a T-shirt and her panties to deal with the farking heat. Oh, and praise her for her lusciousness. And, umm, her wisdom. And bring her pretzels."
Omigod, you guys, it is only JUNE and I am already praying for winter. I went to the grocery store this afternoon, and in the six minutes it took me to travel (by car!) from my house to the air conditioned store, I developped that uniform sticky layer of, umm, glisten all over my entire body. The worst offenders? My forehead and under-boobage area. And if you know me in real life, you know there ain't much to the boobage, rumour says we modestly endowed women are supposed to escape the living hell which is Summertime Boobs. Guess what? Big farking lie.
I sincerely wish I was one of those women who welcome hot weather, who romp freely in the glaring sunshine. Instead I am ME, the chick who hides in her basement after it hits 25 degrees (Celsius people, NOT Fahrenheit...I'm not THAT weird.)
Yet.
PS. Don't forget.... comment = cash. See my entry from June 20 for details.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment