posted Wed, 20 Jul 2005
The bad thing about today is that the little plastic piece that holds my bra strap together broke, so now I have sharp edges digging into my tender flesh. I tried to trim the edges with my nail clipper while I was at a stop light, which garnered some curious stares from the guy in the next car, but when you’re in pain – OK, discomfort – you really don’t care what people think.
Yes, yes, yes, it was this way when I got dressed, but it didn’t seem bad enough to switch to a different bra. It turned out to be a cumulative discomfort. In my office drawer of sundries, where I have every OTC pharmaceutical known to woman, along with feminine hygiene products, spare pantyhose, Morton’s Hot Salt, Celestial Seasonings Peach Apricot Honeybush herbal tea, envelopes, stamps, the Weight Watchers 1*2*3 Success booklet, Target’s antacid tablets, and the earpiece for the cell phone I never use, I have no band aids, which would have been the perfect thing to wrap around the offending sections.
When life gives you peaches, make cake.
So now I have to suffer all day. Now that I am doing boot camp, I don’t even have my gym bag in the car with a spare bra the way I used to when I would swim before work. For those of you who have just joined me, I used to swim at the JCC and get dressed there before coming to work. Sometimes, I would forget to pack a bra, which, really is not that big a problem for someone like me, if you know what I mean. But I did finally put a spare bra and pantyhose in my gymbag just in case.
Now that I am doing boot camp instead, I shower and dress at home, so there is no gym bag in my car. I guess I could remove the offending item from my body, but I don’t think that would be appropriate.
The good thing about today is the 28 year old guy with the crush on me made me a cake.
Yes, I took it. I’m no fool! Someone makes me a chocolate cake, I’m going to accept it, thank you very much!
I actually started it. He and his group finished a huge project for my division last week, so I baked them a peach pound cake on Monday. From scratch. With butter. And fresh peaches. Good baking and cooking starts with good ingredients.
He brought me three big pieces of chocolate cake this morning. I rummaged through my magic drawer, but not only were there no band aids, there were also no spoons or forks. I used to keep a spoon just for such emergencies. I looked around. No one here but us chickens.
“I’m going to use my fingers, OK? Don’t tell anyone!”
It was that fudgy, wet chocolate cake – the kind that gets a sauce. It’s called brownie sundae cake in the north. Lava cake in the south. Oh, man, it’s good. If he keeps this up, I might have to reconsider.