sext: u take off your shirt. i take off my pants. i take off another pair of pants. i take off a pair of pants under those pants. i take off an endlessly repeating series of pants. the designs get stranger and increasingly more surreal with every pair. 30 years later i’m still going and we are just as in love as the moment i took off the first pair.
i will find the love i need
you know how I reblog things that are really old because they’ve somehow wedged themselves into my psyche? this is one of those times. (also, docsorrow’s ladyhealth posts on the Hairpin are some of my favorite things on the entire internet, for what that’s worth.)
My roommate slept in this morning and so I was limited to dresses I can zip up without assistance.
I’m excited, in theory, about living alone, but more than a little concerned about what it’s going to mean for me sartorially.
There should be a thing like bottle openers mounted to walls at bodegas.
I can’t even count how many times my husband’s been woken up to my back in front of his face, with me agitatedly asking him, “can you zip this up real quick please? hurry [my carpool buddy]’s here.”
there also needs to be a way to adjust your own bra straps while said bra is still on your body (without enlisting a partner who may not be super-accustomed to the task. “no, no, DOWN; now you’re making it LOOSER.”).