I ordered swimsuits online so I could try them on and suffer privately, and perhaps call my therapist.
And I love knowing before I even open it that my breast is not fitting in there.
That’s adorable, though. You tried.
I ordered swimsuits online so I could try them on and suffer privately, and perhaps call my therapist.
And I love knowing before I even open it that my breast is not fitting in there.
That’s adorable, though. You tried.
Email from OkCupid, subject: “Smug, You are Hot!”
“Hey Smug, We just detected that you’re now among the most attractive people on OkCupid. We learned this from clicks to your profile and reactions to you in Quickmatch. Did you get a new haircut or something? Well, it’s working! To celebrate, we’ve adjusted your OkCupid experience: You’ll see more attractive people in your results. You’ll also appear more often to other attractive people. Sign in to see your newly-shuffled matches. Have fun, and don’t let this go to your head.”
A few things…
A man I just met in a group setting apologized to me for using ungentlemanly language.
Oh. Oh, honey. You’re fuckin’ adorable.
(Seriously, that IS really nice. Good work with the respect, sir. Makes my panties wet.)
I am, by all appearances, a fully functional adult and a contributing member of society.
Until my mother invites me to like “The Belly Fit Club” on Facebook. Then I’m 12 years old being told my burgeoning lady-gut is “just baby fat”… but also that I should avoid sugar and carbs.
Whatever, lady. I’m adorable. Belly fat and all.