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As you may or may not have noticed, I spend most of my time in HUGE rollneck sweaters. I have a pretty good stock of them. Even having gotten back down to a size six pants, the chest is still outrageous and I don't want to deal with it. Never have. Whenever I'm thinking of wonderful things to wear, which is always BEFORE going out there to look for them, I think of HUGE, Omar-the-Tentmaker-style shirts and sweaters. This has been so for my whole life, even back when I was still staring at my flat chest in the bathroom mirror, willing my boobs to grow.
Well, Harley was so happy to be spared the kennel for two weeks, he cut loose with some of his mad money as a present to his pack leader... who will be wearing this sweater, in size ginormous, very soon.... My birthday sweaters both turned out to be entirely too impractical for schlumping around in the boondocks, especially on a woman known for coffee disasters and her boobs managing to get places no one ever thought of before. So THIS one, albeit supposedly only for Christmas time, will do in their stead very nicely indeed.
Also stocked up on nearly a year's worth of the good kind of vitamins the doctor says I should take for the rest of time. My blood levels of vitamin D are now in the spectacular range and STAYING there. My lifelong problem with staying in the semi-anemic zone has been cured by some fancy-ass B12 lozenges... and did you know B12 is excellent for your brain tissue and nerves? I did not, but I do now and my vaguely anemic thing is gone. My ratio of good triglycerides to bad ones ROCKS. My blood pressure, unaccountably, remains as low as an athlete's.
I'm practically Mary Poppins, dudes.
Now, if Goldie can just hang on until I relearn to fly, we're happening.
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05 August 2010
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