A question and a story. If I tell you a story, will you answer my question?
I was at the doctor’s the other day, sitting there talking to her when I realized something was jutting into my breastbone. I reached down and found a wire. An underwire, in fact, creeping out of my bra.
“Oh, dear,” I said, interrupting the flow of everything. “I seem to…hmm. My underwire seems to be sticking out of my bra.”
“Oh,” she said.
“Uh…” I dithered, unsure of what to do. “I think this will be okay.” I sort of shoved it back in. “Hang on,” I said.
Fuck it. I fished into my shirt and pulled it out.
“Okay, I’m just going to put this in my purse…and done.”
That was awkward. As it turns out, this is my only beige bra, which is critical for wearing under light clothing because it “matches” your skintone. All my other broosieres are like black or pink zebra or some shit. Since I am putting off buying things like bras for now, I was like fuck it, Ima keep wearing this.
So I had the slightly sad boob and the higher, differently-shaped boob. I don’t care if I’m cockeyed! I do what I want! Then I was stretching a little and heard a snapping sound-the other underwire broke on the inside. Yes, I’m still wearing it. I DOOO WHAT I WAAANT.
A question: is it possible to comb nits out of your own hair? Has anyone ever done it? Thanks. It’s days like these that I really deplore my poor life choices.