The good news is, my new neighbor is either a hot, young-ish guy, or has hot, young-ish guy visitors at 10 pm on Saturday nights.
The bad news is, I learned this by passing said hot, young-ish guy at the common door, as he was walking in and I was walking out to meet the grocery delivery guy…and I was wearing mismatched pajamas and slippers, with hair I THINK was last washed on Thursday?
“Since I am not model-skinny, but also not super fat and fabulously owning my hugeness, I fall into that nebulous ‘normal American woman’ size that legions of fashion stylists detest. For the record, I’m a size 8 (this week, anyway). Many stylists hate that size because, I think, to them, it shows that I lack the discipline to be an ascetic or the confident sassy abandon to be a total fatty hedonist. They’re like: pick a lane! Just be so enormous that you need to be buried in a piano, and dress accordingly.”
— Mindy Kaling, Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me? (And Other Concerns)