So I found my namesake's doll online today. She looks a little crazy, no? She is also no longer in mint condition and comes in vintage retro packaging. Coincidentally, all of those things describe me perfectly. Crazy? Check. Non-Mint condition? Check. Retro packaging? Check aaannnd check. Except my own retro packaging is less cardboard box and more saggy boobs and left foot bunion. Hottttt!
Remember when I was whining about not having any good underwear? Here's where I'm going to whine about not having any good bras. I know, you're so lucky to be reading this right now. It's okay, take a deep breath and calm the fuck down.
Being a *ahem* pleasantly pump girl, I require some heavy duty support. I can't just tra la la skip down to Victoria's Secret and snatch (I said snatch) up a little underwire number. No sir.
Case in point.
Hi, have you met my boobs?
My largely lady lumps require what the female undergarment industry refers to as "extended sizes" or what I refer to as "big titty bras".
Seriously, they refuse to stay in my clothes.
But I want cute, y'all. I refuse to wear the same bra my mother wears.
70 years old and she hasn't tried a different style bra since she was 30.
I'm thinking something more like this.
Look! She has a tassel. Sexy and classy.
I want to dance into a room like this after I put it on.
And then I'm going to buy a white chiffon dress and style my hair in a bouffant and probably adopt a puppy small enough to prop in my cleavage and I'll walk around town and people will be all "That lady has a dog between her boobs, but who cares...her tits look amazing!".
What? I don't know. I'm tired. And saggy. This is the best I can do today. Also, your mom's a slut.