Friday, November 14, 2008

i'm gonna be grossed out...

if my belly button "pops".

I mean, Jesus, I'm no Thanksgiving turkey. Do they make something special to prevent this? Is there at least a handy little cover that, um, smoothes it down? Like belly button Spanx? I'm seriously going to feel like such a freak. Some things are just wrong. SO glad I don't have a belly piercing.

AND this convo is making me miss my old stomach. I'm too vain to have a child, no? Gonna go lather up the Mustella.

OH, and to the jerk who thought it was appropriate to stand within my 5 inch personal space radius whilst in the line at Subway, I hate you. So does my banana baby (it's that long this week, hence the name). For real though, back up off it! You're sandwiching me in between your fat belly in your cheap suit and bad Trump hair, and the lady in front of me who conveniently is paying for 4 subs with separate checks. I know my girls are considerably big and perky these days, but gander down south about 4 inches and you'll notice I'm carrying the miracle of life. I'm certain the Virgin Mary didn't get ogled and nearly groped by your fat fingers as you gestured across me to the tomatoes you wanted. As if the Subway people were confused about WHICH tomatoes your meatball sub needed. Punk.

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