i think such shameful thoughts sometimes. and there’s no excuse.
i am not sure when this happened, and i’m terribly afraid it will suddenly unhappen before i can afford to stock up — anyway, at some point in the recent past, the ban on making cute, comfortable bras in my size was lifted, and there are now, right now as i type this, literally dozens of styles available in 38dd, at target, which are stretchy & comfy & manage to accomplish thier bra-ly duties without resembling tank armor or having enormous grandmotherly straps. hell, this one’s so cute it’s all i can do right now to resist dashing into the bathroom and taking a picture, but that would be wrong, right? ’cause, um, these boobs have never been on the internet, no, not even in the tequila & webcam days. not even for a good cause, during the blogathon. and they damn sure haven’t been attached to emails & sent off willy-nilly. and the fact that most swimsuits are more revealing? still no excuse. i’m a good girl now, i am. not that i was a bad girl before.
i don’t believe i’m posting this. but, just as i’ve had to learn to write my drunk emails sober, i’ve had to develop all manner of coping skills now that i rarely if ever manage to get past slightly tipsy, even when i’m trying. it’s traumatic, not having any excuse, you know.