Getting dressed, so simple. And by simple I mean 'can't be achieved without trying on a minimum of 3 pairs of pants and 27 shirts and then throwing them all over my room as if a fashion grenade went off and used my tears as part of the shrapnel', oh yeah it's that simple.
As I've mentioned before I have lost my pre-baby weight but remember before I had said baby I was still 30lbs heavier than I wanted to be and now my hips are still a foot wider, my stomach doesn't know which direction to go, my thighs fight for control and my boobs, well, I won't get into that except that depending on the time of day one of them is double the size of the other and half of it has taken up residence under my armpit and under my chin of which I have 2.
Okay, maybe I'm exaggerating...maybe not. I guess that description is basically how I "feel" I look. Fun! Feelings! Let's all get together and FEEL our FEELINGS and LOVE and blah blah blah puke.
So. I hate getting dressed. It ruins my day. On Easter I wore a Jem and the Holograms T-shirt, today I wore a trashbag.
Jem! Woo ooo, she's truly outrageous, truly truly truly outrageous!
Whoa hoa Jem, wooooo she's truly outrageous!
And, you're welcome.
Join me in the near future. Today perhaps. When I throw all my clothes into a huge barrel and light them on fire. Bring marshmallows, ooh and some of those leftover Easter Peeps we all know that I ate all of mine.