Before I talk about anything noteworthy, I want to point out that one of the search terms that led someone here was Liam Hemsworth foot fetish. Um, whatever floats your boat, I guess? People crack me up sometimes.
I finally told my old-school Catholic grandmother that I was moving in with Boyfriend (I neglected to mention that it happened a year ago, but eh, sometimes you’ve gotta keep your cards to yourself). All she could tell me was that it was a bad idea and I shouldn’t do it. She then told me that if I loved him so much, we should just get married.
I respect that she has her own opinion, and I appreciate that she feels comfortable enough with me to express it. Very adamantly. I’ve never in my life disagreed with my grandmother so completely about something.
So that’s the truth portion of today’s programming. I wouldn’t have even told her except she’ll be visiting in a few weeks and knew I would be moving… it’d be tough to explain a two bedroom condo with a bunch of dudes’ clothing everywhere. Sigh. Sorry to disappoint you, Joan.
I’m daring myself to have a summer where I don’t feel like une petite baleine in a bathing suit. How amazing would it be to not feel like I should be sucking it in all the time? Obviously, this is accomplished by actually going to the gym (Thursday was the first time in May, oops) and maybe eating fewer chips with onion dip. Honestly, I don’t know why I bring those things into my house. Oh right, because I live with a man who has a metabolism faster than the speed of light. Duh.
Going to go look at bikinis online and devise ways to shrink my thighs overnight (they’re permanently large and I am pretty sure that’s ok with me) so that I can look like a Victoria’s Secret model (just kidding, I’m way more fun than them anyway).