Oh Naaa-naa

Okay, so i’m now that tragic, that I actually find it funny to walk around a family mall of excitement, now in my full ‘Lost baby weight-ish, Glamour Pussy glory,’ whilst waltzing around in a flowy lilac dress, 7 inch heels, far too much lippy and whilst air circling my ever so lovely cleevage, with my index finger, to a distant background bustle of diners and Rihanna songs and teenage looking party goers. I’d only had one rum and was again draped in a brown faux fur. (I prefer a white one.) That isn’t even the tragic part. Whilst I tending to the cleevage air finger circling, I was mouthing the words ‘YOU LOVE IT,’ and because in my world…it’s funny. I couldn’t even seen under my eyelashes and dodgy contact lenses and was on my way to get a taxi home after going to what i’ll call a ‘works do.’ When the most entertaining thing to happen at a ‘works do’ is my post preggo cleevage, rum and a 51 year old drunk lady, in a mini skirt and tight top, falling off her heels, while uttering really drunken, yet humourous complaints…you have problems. However, nonetheless i’m a ‘Flooze’ who will always make the most out of any god given situation. Be it hazy or amazey. I had a good time. Rambled on about how i was sweating like side of pork dumpling. Laughed out loud with the occasional ‘popper inner’ of work colleagues, then went to hail a taxi at 8.15pm. (I actually strutted passed the 51 year old drunk lady during my taxi walk way.

THEN Gay Adam sent me a text reading,

‘ The gym I was gonna join today is currently on fire…like seriously…flames..the lot. I’m choosing to take this as a sign that exercise is bad for me.’

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