The Perfect Outfit

Ever wearing a perfectly comfortable sports bra and pair of  Great Dane drool-covered   knock off Lulu Lemon   likely should have been washed two days ago  yoga pants and think to yourself:

SELF: "You know what self? I feel too... I dunno... free in these pants. I feel as if something is missing."

You ponder this for a moment and then eventually come to the realization that what you are lacking is skin tight razor denim thrashing its own path through your ladybits.

How you missed it all along is beyond me, but facts are facts.

You need some seriously skin tight denim in order to feel complete.

SELF: "But, self, even with that, I feel almost claustraphobic. Like my torso just needs to shout to the world  'Look at me, bitches! Look at me in all my glory! Take me in! Desire me!' You understand, right self?"

So you come up with a solution there.

One that requires fishnet. And not JUST fishnet, but MORE fishnet. (imagine Christopher Walken saying it like "cow bell"...)

BUT,

In order to remain out of prison for indecent exposure, you realize you have to subject your torso to a little boob coverage. Just a little. I mean, those ARE AMPLE breasts you have there, Self.

SELF: "At least I can make that shit RAINBOW."

So you're almost there. Your yoga pants be damned. Your properly fitted sports bra? Well now, those are for  pussies   athletes  people with taste  pansies.

SELF: "I just... I just need something to really stand out. Like REALLY stand out. Some bling or some such flair! Ooooh... twinkle, twinkle, bitches."

And the shoes? Ah f_ck it, I'll just throw on my flip flops.

Do my toes look big in these sandals? (Image via "People of Walmart")

Thaaaaaaaaaaaat's the ticket.

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Oh Shit.

Do you ever do that thing?

You know, that thing where you're kind of unaware and then that thing starts happening?

For me it started innocently enough. I traded my old impala in for a nice, compact, fuel-efficient car. (points for better gas mileage and environmental consideration).

Fast forward about 3.5 years and I'm in the new (okay, 2006) compact car.
After running to various flower shops, quite inefficiently, all the while failing to find purple roses for my niece's birthday.
Rush, rush, rush.
After having poorly planned the day and getting on the treadmill late, and being chubby and stinky, and showering late and.... (less points for poor time management and stupidity).

You know, that thing where you remind your husband to check his windshield washer fluid as he's driving, because you're terrified you'll get stuck behind a transport on the highway in slushy weather with no wiper fluid to save your ass from filthy, sandy mush, flung high speed at your windshield. Like it did to you two years ago in your compact car and you nearly drove off the highway because you couldn't see. You know, right? (less points for being an annoyingly nagging wife).

That thing where you ensured he checked his, BUT DIDN'T CHECK YOUR OWN. Because you keep forgetting that it was the OLD IMPALA that had the courtesy to let you know that you were getting LOW on fluid, whereas the new compact car just says;

"Hey you stupid motherf_cker, looks like you're outta washer fluid!!"
"Have a nice    day   death!"

You know, that thing. Where you are on the highway, doing 125 km/hr, trying to arrive with non-purple roses in time in another city, in the fast lane, in rainy/slushy weather.

And that damn OH-SHIT light comes on.

Oh well, I lived to make it to the next town and thank goodness had the paranoia and foresight to pack extra washer fluid in the trunk (I ABHOR paying $6 at the gas station for it when you can get it for $2 at the grocery store).

Lived to tell the tale. (bonus points for surviving an untimely death).

Damn I hate this compact minimalist-bells-and-whistles business.

I need a Hummer. Or, rather, maybe my husband does (tee hee).

After all, his washer fluid WAS topped up and I ran out...
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Crying over?

Just to clarify - I can still cry if I spill soy milk, right?

I mean, it easily makes just as much a mess as dairy milk.

And I think it costs more.

And the soy milk totally got into someone else's smartphone wall charger cord.

*Proceeds to cry over spilled milk and lack of hand-eye coordination*

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