Note to self: Please, please stop trying to buy bras via the Internets. You keep doing this, and doing this, and doing this, and all it gets you is shipping charges, dashed hopes and body dysmorphia. Go to the goddamn store and get goddamn measured and try on some goddamned bras. Yeah yeah yeah you got two kids, when're you ever gonna have an hour to stand in the goddamned Macy's dressing room getting harassed by the bra lady. I don't know, figure it out. Christ. You with the Internets bra-buying.
Labels: and if'n I drop I reckon I'll be in motion, cryin' amazacrazy, demoralizing confessions, first-world problems, I'd rather take a beating, Janice says you're welcome, tap-dancing on my last fucking nerve