Merry Flippin' Holidays

For weeks, B has been bugging me to send him my measurements because he's trying to order my C'mas present and needs this information. Why yes, I am pretty sure that said present is going to be tiny, see-through, and more for him than me, but that's practically a tradition in the Grail household. Some day I'll tell you the story of how he wanted to get me a bikini wax for C'mas. A Brazilian wax.

.. and he cannot imagine why I haven't been jumping up and down with eager excitement, breathlessly emailing him those numbers.

So tonight, I decide to bite the bullet, and shut his arse up cheerfully send him my information.

Do you know they make tape measures that only go up to 36"??

Yeah. And I own one of them.

It's going to take some serious retail therapy to get over this. Or maybe cupcakes... which, I admit, may be part of the problem.

I can't believe that when I finally gathered up the courage to confront my jiggly curvaceous body, I couldn't stretch the tape measure around it.

I am simply too much woman for that f'ing thing tiny little tape measure, I suppose.



Oh hell, it's not that I expected to be under 36" anywhere. It's just the idea.

I've outgrown a tape measure (!!)