* I dare you to tell me to walk through fire *
I went to the movies the other day to see Ghosts of Girlfriends Past. Excellent movie. I laughed. I cried. Mostly I remembered why I have a *fuck love* philosophy. I have also determined that I am Connor Mead's female equivalent. I totally agreed with all his rules & ended up chuckling through most of the movie as I recalled performing some of those very same moves, with exactly the same results.
After the movie neither of us wanted to use the theatre restrooms, so we traipsed giddily across the plaza the use the mall facilities. Along the way we discussed the hitches in our choices of relationships through the ways. She actually asked me what I look for in a guy for a relationship. Yeah hello...
me = ass backwards in guy world
Don't we all know this already??
*somehow* this turns into talking about my boobs. I wonder, is there ever a conversation where my boobs don't play a prominent role? Um no. Oh yes, I remember how we got on the subject of my lovely bodice, I caught my dear special friend checking herself out in the reflections of the store front windows. Huh. Anyway, the moment I call her out on it she retorts, "yeah, well you're in love with your boobs." Approxamitely 7 pairs of teenage boys eyes land directly on my chest .02 seconds after she delivered that line. Have I mentioned she has impeccable timing?
And yes of course, now that she mentions it, I do check out my own boobs, and yes I love them.
The Tao of unsaying
3 months ago