Today we’re going to talk about bras and my butt! Perhaps if there’s time, we’ll have a virtual pillow fight in our pajamas!
(I KNOW this post is going to be irredeemably girly.)
(I apologize in advance.)
(But I'm still unpacking from Passover, dealing with a toddler who has both a double ear infection AND a stomach virus, and forcing myself to finish the Most Depressing Book Ever, so I need a little levity.)
So the reason I was asking about wearing black bras under white shirts the other day is because I recently (inadvertently) engaged in such activity. I was planning to wear a dark top that day, but decided upon a white button-down shirt at the last minute, but forgot to make the appropriate undergarment-related adjustments (i.e., putting on a light-colored bra instead of the black one I was wearing). I went through an entire day like this, and no one said a thing to me. Not a word. And so when I realized my error—ONCE AGAIN, AFTER A WHOLE DAMN DAY HAD ELAPSED—I began to reflect a bit. Did people think I did it on purpose? Did they not want to offend me? I MUST KNOW.
While we’re on the subject, though, I do want to talk about my bras in general. Did I say talk? I mean RAVE. Ordinarily, I loathe
GO GET IT.
And now, continuing with my Girliest Post Ever, I have bit of a confession. I was walking downtown last Friday in my skinny maternity jeans that I have convinced myself I will wear forever. (In reality, I will probably never want to look at them again once I have the baby, but whatever.) I was passing by a building site, and a construction worker…complimented my posterior.
To be more specific, he called it “luscious.”
I know it’s clichéd.
I know I should have been offended.
But honestly, people?
I’m now officially eight months pregnant, and couldn't help but be secretly flattered.
Even if the compliment DID come from a grizzled, lecherous construction worker.