12 hours

It’s tomorrow. Tomorrow is my reemergence, my reintroduction, my relapse. In 12 hours.

I’ve gone missing, I know. I’ve been quiet, I know. I haven’t blogged about my whereabouts or tasks or activities these past few days. But take my word for it, it’s been nice. I’ve thoroughly enjoyed myself. And now I feel ready. Well. Sort of. I’m ready to go, except I haven’t worked out one minor detail. Really two minor details. Actually, they are not minor at all. Two major details: my boobs. Specifically how I will stick them inside a bra for 8 hours.

A few days ago I tried a dress rehearsal, but my boobs rebelled by hour five. They were like, We can’t breathe! And I totally caved.

So, tomorrow, I’m going to totally ignore their cries.

I just hope they don’t figure out how to free themselves.

(Turn up your sound)

Published by Mari

I was born with a widow's peak and a thick accent. I majored in English as a second language. I work (marianeladearmas.com) and travel (alittlecubangoesalongway.com) and sometimes do both.

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