By talking to myself I am ensuring my external hard drive keeps the memories that my mind sometimes cannot remember. When I looked back at my photographs I knew I needed to tell the story. My blog was born.
This does not change the fact that I just got a naked topless picture of a mom I know from my boys school.
A pair of boobies staring at me that I find myself studying and concluding that those are indeed her boobies.
Holy-Mother-of-God. What do I do?
I feel like an outcast.
My sweet, southern, girlfriends that I find so refreshing, have a little secret.
You can drive by their brick houses and see that something is going on with the family that lives there. The pansies that were planted last fall are leggy in their flower beds and should have been pulled out a month ago, and replaced with begonias. Their flower pots are sitting empty. Has there been a separation? Impending divorce? Illness?
No, they just discovered “mommy porn.” They are hiding in a little corner in their homes reading “Fifty Shades of Grey.” I know because when we go to soccer practices or the club their whispering about it, giggling. They greet each other with, “what page are you on?” They declare that the second book is better than the first. Everyone my age is talking about it as if they have never seen the opposite sex’s private parts in the daylight. They are acting like a locker room full of high school boys with a dirty magazine. I feel so left out!
I HAVE NEVER BEEN TO NYC???!!!
With that said, if you see me wandering around NYC aimlessly, do me a favor and yell, “MOM!!!!!! We’re hungry! He broke my Lego Star Wars ship! I can’t poop! I can’t stop pooping! Come and see my cool corn poop!” That way I don’t get homesick.
Also if you see me, please introduce yourself in case I don’t recognize you because you look SO MUCH better in person!
We would be instant chums. She would tell me she appreciates my brass ba!!s when it comes to what I want to post and yet understands why I spell inappropriate words with symbols. She would give me the inside scoop on how things really work and tell me plainly what I am doing wrong and how I can improve. She would share my fondness of vodka and love of desserts. She would tell me there is a place for me and that I am not like everyone else that calls herself a blogger. She would offer me a cigar.