You Guys. A very flattering friend of mine told me, ‘You’re gorgeous.”
First, that is an egregious use of the word.
Second, it’s totally not true and we all know it. All of us know it. So stop. I’m passable when I’m at my best.
Today I went to deliver a thing I sold for $10 and then popped into the store to pick up carrots and celery to make ham and potato soup, not because I necessarily wanted to make soup, but because I opened my freezer and the hambone I had shoved in there back at Christmastime crashed out and refused to be re-wedged back into a spot. A hambone forced me to cook, which is really obnoxious of a damn hambone.
Today I also realized that no saying has ever been more true than, “The older I get, the more comfortable I am leaving the house looking like shit,” or however that saying goes.
I wore no undie-wears, no bra, no deodorant, dirty hair in a pony, and not one stitch of makeup. And I went into the store looking like that. Kinda probably how many guys just naturally walk into a store on every day.
Well, for me, it prompted a stern talking to with myself of, “So this is what it’s come down to now, Me??”
And then I answered myself, “Yep, this is how we’re now going shopping. At least I brushed my teeth.”
So now I’m walking around looking like a homeless lady and talking to myself, and we’ve officially entered a new phase of life.
But back to my flatterer.
My response to him was, “I took off my bra tonight and a Dorito fell out.”
You want to describe me accurately, Reader? Call me delicious. Because I occasionally have surprise treats stashed in my bosom.
Update: Here’s a photo of my Bossy Soup. You know you want some. Come get it.
