At Least They're Committed

Wow. I caught my silhouette in the shadows and my boobs look waaay too perky. Lily will, I’m sure, notice immediately when I see her next and again point out that I suck at buying bras. Not that my boobs aren’t perky, they just don’t point up is all.

I’m braiding and unbraiding my hair, my lips are filled in and I’ve just finished applying eyeliner, ala Super Sharpie, to try and make myself look better. What I’m really trying to do, of course, is make myself feeeel better — pretty, yes, that’s it, or maybe just cute. Pointy boobs aren’t helping.

I’ve been walking virtual door-to-door today, and nobody has come out to play. Maybe it’s because people don’t like me anymore. I did scare that one person off, or at least it seems that way. Two weeks! Twwwoooooo weeeeeks! Bye-bye! Maybe I meant to. Yeah, maybe so. Anyway, that wouldn’t be bad if there were more people to play with. But there doesn’t seem to be. Not today. And I’m not special to the playmate who’s special to me and so that makes me want a lot of other people to come out and play all at once but they don’t. Toys. Lots and lots of colorful, cuddly toys! More and more and more! One I like + one I like + one I like = one that I adore.

That’s OK. I’m shifting my bra down, down right about, yeah, there . . . maybe that’s better. Maybe they’ll play another day . . . and they just might bore me anyway.