I become attached to the weirdest things...
Like this one bra I bought my sophomore year of college. (Let us NOT do the math on how old that makes the bra!) I loved that beautiful bra and last Sunday I noticed that the wire was sticking out of the side like I was trying to hide a shank of sorts.
I immediately hurled myself onto the floor and began to violently weep for my lost friend. I remember purchasing that bra... I remember WHY I purchased it and how frickin pretty laddy dah I felt once I had it and the matching pantaloons on.
It was the last time and the only time I've EVER bought matching ish. I know some girls always have to match because they're afraid they'll get in a car accident and the meds will have to rip off their clothes and then they'll be shocked not by the girl's wounds but by her inability to coordinate her frickin undies. Obviously matching undies were never a concern of mine.
Still it was nice having something pretty and now it's gone. Well it's technically hanging out sadly in the upstairs bathroom where I dropped it. I say hi and goodbye to it every morning and every night after I tinkle. I think that's it from my college years now.
The car died...the bra died...I have nothing left of my liminal years. TEAR!
Bye bye pink bra
Have you any wool?
No ma'am, no ma'am
My padding's gone you fool!