Friday, February 12, 2010

Clown boobs.

I just got back from lunch with an old friend, and I smell like salsa. I can't shake it. Why can't I shake it? Because it's on my boob.

It's inevitable, it seems, at this point in my boob size, I get food on myself whenever I go out. I tried to keep the table in front of me clean! I did! But I was eating a mini chicken "street" taco (at On The Border...they were delicious, and the absolute perfect size!), and a couple of pieces of chicken kinda rolled out of one side of the taco, landed on the table in front of me, and before I could see the mess, I dipped my boob in it. (The reason why I couldn't see the mess? Because I have to crane my neck over my boobs to see below them. Yeah. They're fun.)

::sigh:: I'm having them removed soon. I'm having them removed soon. I'm having them removed soon. Sometimes, I just need to remind myself of the reduction plans. Seems that lately, I'm doing that all. the. time. I can't wait!

1 comment:

Shicho said...

first with the insanity over car tires.

now you're gonna get rid of some perfectly good boobs? woman, you are a wreck.

tell me, please, that you are at least donating your boobs to some deserving Haitian waif, right? or, at bare minimum, to the latest group of superstars to re-record "we are the world": your boobs could sing back-up.

or, and this just occurred to me, you know that otherwise starving but almost beautiful southwest Asian girl with that cleft palate that Sally Struthers cruelly insists on pointing out? yeah, her. you could donate your boobs to her. that's certainly more than Sally has ever done for the poor child...