Me & the Pastor. My hair looked so good - unfortuntely, about six hours before this pic was taken. I have chicken cutlets. Not the worst chicken cutlets you've ever seen. You only know what that means if you've been watching "What Not to Wear" for a while.
Also, I touched that Indian. Most of you probably won't know what that means either.
Even if none of this caption makes sense to you, it's still a lovely picture. Enjoy!
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So I was whining to Al about how my boobies have disappeared thanks to WW and how I needed to buy a new bra. He was whining about how it was $40 and that I could possibly "under" grow it and "That's a really big investment..." (He clearly has no clue what I spend on purses.)
I told him that wasn't an issue and that if they did shrink more, I could just get some chicken cutlets and make it work.
Today, at Victoria's Secret, he asks me if I'm going to get some hamhocks while we're there. I thought he was referring to my arse and gave him the eyedaggers. He just shrugged and said that all that food talk confused him and made him want a snack.
*sigh*
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