But feelings I still have.
The fact seems to have escaped my Rockstar.
After a non-grueling day as a Pizza Slut, I arrived home and proceeded to get pleasantly buzzed, thanks to a little (or big) bottle of 99 Apples.
My Rockstar and I sat down and amiably zoned out on a TV show we both enjoy; I cooked him a drunken grilled Cheese, my specialty, ( a grilled cheese slightly askew made with love and Colby Jack cheese), when all of a sudden, his Daddy Dear called. I decided to play a funny, and while he conversed with his male creator, I proceeded to don his newly washed swim trunks over my yoga capris, and my only-minutely small bra over the tank top I was already wearing. I reaped a smile, and perhaps a squashed man-giggle, before he bid adieu to his daddy. I mentioned the obvious swim trunks, when he decided to be his ass-faced self.
“Yeah, my pants used to fit you.”
I admit here that I have gained only two pounds since I last tried his pants on for fun, and so I took this as an affront. (Even more so due to my drunken state.)
I have never once professed to be a skinny-minny; in fact, the opposite is true. I admit to fatness on a daily basis, though I appreciate the times when people decide to disagree with me. HOWEVER, I may not be a Mena Suvari, but I care (at least sometimes) about other people’s feelings, and would never tell my semi-cute girlfriend with the big boobs that she was less than perfect. That is for people who are jealous of her to do.
‘Tis true that I am more than a little inebriated, but I can still spell inebriated without spellcheck, which means my feelings can still be hurt. And so I persevered in ignoring him for the remainder of the evening, which only resulted in his going to bed early. Fuckin’ A.
Sparklebumpsthebookwhore 