Sometimes you can only have one thing or the other.
But I managed, this time, to get both.
🙂
.
I went bra shopping today.
[pause, while the ladies all collectively groan]
And it was…
Not terrible.
*laugh*
I mean, it can be terrible amiright?!
But I managed to find bras — plural — that fit and I even had a coupon. (Woot!)
And it took less than 30 minutes. (Even more wooty!)
So I thought I’d do a bit of show and tell.
The only ‘show’ I have for the moment is the black lace bralette-looking jobby-do above. But it’s not a pull-over-the-head style bralette — I dislike those, because I’m all broad shoulders and brawny heft on the top so if it’s not a sports bra it just doesn’t work to put on a bra that way for me — and instead, it has a regular hook-and-eye closure in the back with a broad band. The last bit was like, “Ooooh! Aaaah!” for me. *laugh* Because it’s not normally something you can find in an A-cup.
Yes, I am now an A-cup.
I told you recently that menopause has not only reduced my libido, it has also reduced the size of my breasts. My 36B bras (not all of them, but enough of them that it’s an issue) have started gapping.
So today I set out with ‘the gap’ in mind and figured I’d be lucky if I found something that worked.
Well, I was lucky.
Continue readingHave you tried Wordle yet?
Y’all know I love my word games, but mostly I stick to Scrabble-type stuff. Also, I try to avoid apps because they kill my battery. So it’s taken me a while to catch on to the whole Wordle thing.
But you can do it without installing anything on your phone!
So once I found that out, I tried it.
For those of you who are curious about it but haven’t yet tried, here’s how it works:
- You get six tries to guess a five-letter word of the day
- When you type in a guess, the game will highlight letters — yellow means the letter is in the word but you currently have it in the wrong place; green means it’s the correct letter, correctly placed
So my first Wordle started like this:
Continue reading
FAIR WARNING: This post talks about generational relationships, questionable parenting, and the problems that arise therefrom. It also addresses issues of abuse, and touches on hereditary mental health (or lack thereof). If any of those topics are likely to be negatively triggering for you, I invite you to opt out of reading.
~and~
CLARIFICATION: Any judgments passed (or inferred) in this post are the result of my own experiences with my own family. This is not about you or your choices; if you see yourself in the scenarios I describe, please know that my frustrations/difficulties are not about you. Please don’t take it personally.
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Recent Events
Over the past several months, I have been hit with what feels like gut one punch after another from the metaphorically flailing arms of my fucked-up family.
My niece – my sister’s oldest daughter, who is a tween – was in “self-harm” mode to a great enough degree a few months ago that she had to be put into psychiatric care. Her father, whose mental stability is less than stellar, refused to sign for her to go to a residential treatment program; as a result, my sister traveled three hours a day for several weeks to take my niece to a day treatment facility. And it’s gone on from there.
Before Christmas, my mother sent me a text message (a text message, not a phone call — I feel like the format of the messaging is significant in this case) that my brother – who has spent his entire life in what might be called Unstable Condition, and who has fathered multiple children over the past 20 years, one of whom never recovered from his teenage breakdown and is now quite a mess – has a new baby. With a new mother. (This is number five that I’m aware of; there are probably more.) My response to my mother’s unwelcome message was, “Maybe he’ll actually take care of this one.” However, my hopes of that actually happening are slim-to-none.
This past week, I woke to another message. My sister is pregnant. The age span between her oldest (mentioned above) and the new baby will be even larger than the age span between my sister and I (which separates us by a generation). And the father – a different father than that of her first two – is not even someone she is in a relationship with.
And there’s more.
There’s always, with my family, more.
It’s a never-ending spiral.
Continue reading