I am sure it's no surprise, that I am a creature of comfort. I like my PJ's and I like my bathrobe, and the more time I can spend in them, the better. I also detest BRAS. They were clearly designed by someone who has never NEEDED boob support. With this in mind, I have gotten into the habit of traipsing around Comando Style in the privacy of my own home. Yes folks, I take my bra off at the door. (If there is a ever a contest for bra removal while keeping your shirt on, I WILL win.) Sadly enough, it's not the purtiest sight to see. I HAVE given birth to four children afterall. So, the other night I was standing at the stove, minding my own P's and Q's, stirring the chicken stew for the evenings meal. Along comes GirlyDiva to do her usual drive-by dinner inspection. (if it's something she likes, she will skip through the kitchen and loudly proclaim "I CAN'T WAIT TIL DINNER". If it's something she *doesn't* like, she will stomp through same said kitchen and proclaim "I AM SO NOT EATIN' THAAAT.") So, she saunters up and stands next to me for a moment. I brace for the proclamation. Nothing. I look at her. Her usual food inspection look has been replaced by another expression entirely.. Something like.. *kid who just walked in on his 90 year old grandmother getting out of the shower* Face? Suddenly she squeals in terror: "EWWW MOM THATS SO GROSS!! YOU'RE NOT WEARING A BRA -ARE YOU?!!" To which I respond with this face:
She then runs shrieking to her room, and slams the door. I dunno bout you, but I'm guessing she won't be buggin me about whats for DINNER for a while... Heh.