yesterday was a definite case of the mondays.

more like a baker’s dozen.

i tucked, i squeezed.

i rpm’d my quads afire; only to find myself in the same spot at the start of my playlist.

at the market, i stood behind a real life orange county t.v. housewife.

actually i stood behind her giant breasts.

i thought maybe she was the fancy, new dairy case; dispensing milk in her free time for extra cash.

i’m all for a great set of jugs, but 3 o’clock in one’s afternoon is a teeny, tiny early for nippleage, no?

4:30 and you can pop that areola right out honey!

i’m going to give her the benefit of the doubt. maybe when she left the house she didn’t see her blouse was missing.

it’s hard to see when you’re false eyelashes rival jet planes.

this is a trend that is getting more severe and common ’round here.

the lashes are getting longer and thicker and heavier.

how much more can those lids take? it’s not sustainable is it?

my pilates business is going to have to include post-rehab exercises for lash use.

soon, the poor little OC eyelids are going to need their own support groups and reach-out hotlines.

shopping carried on {me sweets, her chardonnay}.

then i had another round of tuck & squeeze and spin class.

not my typical classes. i brought my nervous, knotted stomach with me into sub.

i know it’s evening and our gym does have a bar….

but the amount of makeup and done up hair had me longing for my own face-robe.

designer bags to match dictated personalities.

once again i feel apart, cast out, {flat chested}, not belonging, in this town i call home.