I wish I had one of those little gun things that you point at a surface and it tells you it’s temp.
I’d like to point it at my scar area under my bra after I do cardio.
Cuz it’s hotter than the blazes in there.
I keep thinking about inventing a small ice pack that can go behind the foobs to cool things to heck down in there.
It’s gonna be a long summer. *fanning hopelessly…*
….she’s finished with high school.
No prom. No parties. No awards ceremonies. No cap and gown.
No whoopla whatsoever.
Just a little click of the mouse exactly like a zillion others, but this one carried with it her last assignment.
And that was that. Over. Done.
No bells or whistles or tickertape parade. We slipped into the void of being done with high school so quietly.
Very strange and surreal.
Friend’s daughters are going away to school…some as early as next week. Others in the fall.
The changes here feel just as drastic until I am reminded that I’m not leaving her miles and miles away. She will be going to a two year college about two miles from our house just to get the basics over. This will allow her get her bearings a bit and decide something she would like to ‘do’.
So there are changes. I guess ours just feel more subtle since she will come home to us every afternoon. Something we haven’t had since she was in 9th grade….the going and the coming home part.
Come fall, I will miss having her around all the time. But she’s growing up.
*long contemplative sigh…..*
Happy graduation, sweetie girl. : )
I had been putting off buying more bras. I knew after six months, I was eligible for two new ones. But what a hassle. And since I hadn’t been wearing them full time that long when six months rolled around, I just punted on the whole thing.
And then I decided it was time.
So I called the survivor chick place I go to and asked (praying inside for a miracle) if they still carried my favorite bra. It was a no. : ( So I had to make an appointment, come in and be refitted.
The place is super nice and very private and the girls there are great. And the experience itself is a positive one. The girl that helps me usually is a survivor herself and super patient.
We tried on and tried on. I finally asked her if I won the prize for the most try-ons. But of course, I had not. It just felt like it. And her comment was that some girls find something that works right away. And it takes a little more work for others to find the perfect fit. And I guess I fit in the later category since my perfect bra is no longer made. (insert loud cries and pouts here)
We finally found a bra that sort of fit but it wasn’t in my size. So they ordered me one up and yesterday I went to try it on. It was a sports bra and seemed to support the foobs pretty well. And it didn’t have seams going across the bust. I HATE bras that have weird seams that seem to shine like a beacon in the night under my tops. Nothing like having my clothes shout out…lookie at the foobs. Notice anything weird? That’s exactly how some bras made me feel. Like extra attention was being drawn to the ladies than is normal or necessary. The foobs and I, we just wanna blend in, I tell ya.
So back to the sports bra. I bought it. And then tried it on again when I got home. And noticed something that bothered me ever so slightly. My foobs seemed not quite so cutely shaped, a little smashed and didn’t seem to stick out quite as far as with my other regular bras. And frankly, it ticked me off a little bit. When trying on bras, I am not wearing a top and after trying on so many, it seemed like a victory to find anything that came close to fitting. Without having weird seams. And it was super comfortable which was a major coup. I tried it on for the girl and put my top back on and asked her if she noticed anything different in the foobial area. And she said they seemed a little smaller. BUMMER. I guess it’s not enough that I went from a D in real life to a B (which was my choice, I know), but now to be told they seem even smaller. It was almost too much to take. I did show and tell with the hubs last night and he couldn’t tell. But then again, the house could be sitting in smoldering ashes and he still wouldn’t be sure if he smelled smoke. He’s not always very perceptive, if ya know what I mean. But it’s bought and it’s mine, so that’s that. I know I will wear it and probably be ok with it. But I am just a little bummed about the fit.
And with the bra, I also bought a cami that is pretty cool. My foobs fit inside it so all I have are the two spaghetti straps on my shoulders. It’s very freeing to wear it. The scoop of the neck is bordering on being in the danger zone, but I finally decided to heck with it, I am just going to wear it. If some weird perv is so concerned with my anatomy, then he needs a lesson in eyes up here, eyes up here. So I went with it. I hope I am happy with it when I actually wear it, ya know…out.
So I am a bit pouty about this whole bra thing. This whole fiasco has just gotten under my skin a little bit.
No real point or fancy bow tie of an end to this post. I just needed to fuss. Thanks for listening. : )
I was flippin’ channels the other day and caught a bit of Hungry Girl on tv. I don’t watch cooking shows much, but the fact that she was doing Mexican food made me perk up. I looove Mexican food.
And here is a true confession….I hadn’t ever had guacamole until a few years ago. I watched Alton Brown make it on Good Eats and decided to give it a whirl. And YUM! I lament all the years of going to Mexican food places and shoving ‘that nasty green stuff’ aside. Oh, what I missed!
But anyhoo, back to Hungry Girl. She was trying to make guacamole less fattening. (IMO guac is fine just like it is…replacing a healthy fat with a carb doesn’t make a lot of sense to me.) So! She put some mashed up green peas in with some avocado to make guacamole.
I just about died.
Talk about messing up some perfectly good food. Peas? Really?!
I do hereby promise that I will never EVER ruin a perfectly good dish by adding peas. Especially my beloved guacamole.
The end.
Pass the chips. ; )
