So a friend of mine suggested I start writing a blog, and I believe she’s onto something! I have never written a blog before.. so I am a certified, DARE I SAY IT, drumroll please:-:-:-:-:-: Blog Virgin! So please, let’s go slow. Wow. It’s that small… huh? Oh I don’t care, let’s do it! This is so exciting! I don’t even know what to write about! I guess it can be anything, right? Well since we are taking it slow, I guess I’ll start with a mild topic, one that’s not too provocative.
Let’s talk boob sweat. Don’t get boob sweat? Sit down, and shut up, I don’t even want to hear it. Boob sweat is the absolute worst. Ever have boob sweat during a job interview, and the interviewer asked if you were ok? Yeah me neither, but my god that would be fucking hilarious. But seriously you guys, for us ladies who are well endowed, it’s the pits. HA. Cuz pits sweat too! HA. Sorry, I’ll keep those little comments to myself from now on. Thanks for letting that one slide… But let’s not be sexist. Boob sweat affects men as well as women, and let me tell you… a little man-boob sweat really gets me going! When it makes those smiley face markings on a dark colored shirt of a well rounded man… WHEW! Stand back, he’s mine, I’ll fight to the death for it. It’s almost too much sexy to talk about.
And speaking of sexy, how about those fabulous pits I spoke of earlier? Yes. I sweat out mah pits. Sometimes profusely. In uncomfortable situations. In non-uncomfortable situations. In most situations. At the grocery store. When I pick up my kid from school. Those good ole sweaty pits. There to make me feel confident. Whenever I need a boost, I just sort through my closet for my worst pit-stained shirt, and… I hold it. I hold it long, and hard. Because as a woman, I need confidence to face my goldfish-cracker-kind-of-life. My diapers-and-wipes-are-evil-and-expensive-kind-of-life. My what-is-that-smell-fuck-it-I’ll-clean-it-tomorrow-kind-of-life. That confidence gets me through the morning, when I can’t for the life of me explain calmly to my 7 year old son that no, he cannot wear those pants from when he was 5 because he looks ridiculous and no son of mine is walking out the door looking like a 1980’s nerd child. I did enough of that for probably 3 generations after me. That confidence is important when my two year old swears up and down that she did not stick a marker in her mouth, even though her mouth and hands are as green as a fucking leprechaun. That confidence helps me through the rough weather of having to borrow my husbands clothes because I am way too lazy to do laundry this week. Fuck it. There’s no baby puke stains or smells, I’m ready for public interactions!
And what kind of virgin blogger would I be if I didn’t talk about poop? Did you know that a human being who only weighs 14 pounds can poop out approximately 82 pounds of poop per day? Swear-ta-gawd. Changing diapers seems to be a way of life for me lately, the endless mountain of little white bulges climbing out of an almost-full trashcan… every other day. It’s insanity. Poop everywhere. Thinking about having kids? Put some poop on your arm. Leave it there until you completely forget about it, and then wait for somebody you do not know to point it out to you. See? Get some pit stains, you’ll feel the confidence kick back in. Cuz… kids are awesome. Have some now.
Alrighty. I guess I should wrap it up. I feel pretty good! I feel like we did something here! Like, we know each other a little too well! That’s a great start in my opinion. See you next time!
–That Was Awkward–