Monday, April 8, 2013
Have you ever had one of those days when one of your under wires decides to make a bid for freedom, and you have to run to the bathroom 17 times while you're trying to work to try to push it down where it belongs because it keeps poking you in your side boob but then it works its way back out 3 minutes later and jabs you again? Then, when you get in your car at the end of the day to go home you realize that you cannot take it ONE. MORE. SECOND? So you drive with your knees so that you can unfasten your bra and can finally work it out one of your arm holes of your shirt...then you fling the damn thing into the passenger seat and let out a sigh of relief...as you start praying that you won't have a flat tire or anything on the way home because...hey, gravity stopped being your friend about ten years ago, but so-help-you-God there was no way you could have stood having that thing on for the drive home? No??? Must just be me then.