For the last few days I've been wearing pretty much the same outfit: an athletic bra and a super airy, floaty skirt. The skirts were on clearance at Target for $4 a piece, so I bought a couple in different colors. They're so light I can pack the whole thing into my fist. Very comfortable. On the downside, being that they were on the clearance rack the only size choices were way too big and way too small. I went with too big, figuring that was actually an advantage anyway. I break out in rashes in the heat if my clothes rub on my skin at all, so too big was a good thing.
I was making lunch yesterday (or trying to; all of our bread had molded even though it had been in the freezer since I bought it. Preservative free, there is a downside. Luckily, I keep a wide stock of tortillas and pitas). I looked up to see Aidan staring at me in a look that can only be described as abject horror. Now they've both been freaking out, having to look at my belly for days on end, but I sensed this was something new.
"What?" I ask, looking at myself.
"Mom! I can see your underwear!"
This from the boy who is currently wearing only his underwear. As is his brother. And his father.
"And I see your underwear too. What's the problem?"
"Mom, yours've got little pink flowers on them."
It's supposed to storm all day tomorrow and then be in the 70s on Wednesday. Sounds like bliss.
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