Oh the joys….

If I were to judge the various stages in my life by the evolution of my fashion sense alone, then I would probably say that it has been an unusual ride fraught with bad decisions and at times far too much beer…. Not the least of these stages was the role which booty shorts with ass-words have played in my life….

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You see I would describe my evolution in booty-short terms as having gone somewhat like this:

Teenager (look at me, look at me, are you looking at me?) = Must wear all the time…

Early 20s (I want you to look at me, but I don’t want you to know that I want you to look at me, because that’s far too blatantly egotistical, though I AM pretty amazing) = Wear at the gym, or beach, or other super casually dressed activities where it won’t seem out of place, but not ALL the time..

Mid 20s (Oh? A guy was looking at me? I didn’t notice, I was too busy thinking about writing those memos… Oh, and he was really cute too? Well maybe if I run into him again and he doesn’t seem super creepy then I could pencil him in…. Nah, who am I kidding, there’s no way I’d ever take time away from my work for some dude, where’s the point in that?) = Wear only when lounging around the house while sharing a tub of frozen yogurt with my cat…

Late 20s (Yippy skippy, I knew it was worth not eating lunch today because we totally get to go home before 7pm, what do you want for dinner? Mac and cheese with broccoli and ketchup on it? WTH why not, that sounds amazing since I haven’t had time to eat since dinner time yesterday because I’d rather be hungry then miss the 800th screening of the Muppet movie…) = Completely forget that I even own booty-shorts with words printed on them until my toddler is poking me in the butt and trying to sound out the letters, but hey screw it, at least my kid is going to be reading before pre-school….

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