I survived another Thanksgiving!
I wonder how I always lose food in between my boobs.
Just had to have another nibble of pie crust, but I managed to miss my mouth (yes, I had beer first. But, this is still a problem for me. I’m not a graceful beast).
I excused myself from the table and went to the bathroom (right next to the dining table) where I locked the door, reached into my bra and attempted to remove the sugary bits (by now, somewhat glued to my skin) into the toilet. Much to my delight, in walked my daughter, demonstrating the apparently non-functioning door lock. Fortunately for me, I wasn’t taking a post turkey dump; unfortunately for me, I am pretty sure the position I was in was equally disturbing for any passerby, bent over at the waist, head over the toilet bowl.
No, I don’t have an eating disorder. Yes, I do have boobs. And they catch food from time to time…more the older I get. I’m not sure if this is my body’s way of storing calories in case of emergency or simply an effect of too much skin. Either way, I kind of like storing pie crust in my bra. Other than the inevitable itching factor. Pie crust smells nice.
I guess if the 2012 prophecy is true, you might want to be my friend. When apocalyptic survivors are busy hunting for food, I’ll simply be reaching into my own bra. It’s like a food-storing camel-back, on your front. You should get one.