I could write an entire blog called “Tall Girl Problems.” I bet there’s already a blog out there about it, but I’m too lazy to check.
That goes under the blog “Lazy Girl Problems.”
That’s Morgan in one of the thousands of bathrooms at the Opryland Hotel in Nashville. She’s not paying attention to me because a) she’s known me for 3 years & expects weird behavior or b) she’s also a blogger & understands weird behavior.
Huge bathroom, right? Plenty o’ stalls but I still had beef with them. See, Morgan is a short gal by tall girl standards & her head hits the top of the stall door. This was my view:
Nope, I’m not standing on my toes.
It created an awkward moment or five after I used the facilities & had to scoot my shapewear back up over my rear. & by “scoot,” I mean wiggled back & forth in a chicken dance until I was out of breath & my underwear was shoved up my ass, but my shapewear was on & up under my boobs so I just called it a success. A panting, sweaty success.
That everyone got to witness as the top of my head bobbed around over the door & I looked like a drunk fish on the line.
Trout, anyone?
I was perusing Babble’s Facebook page (because that’s what I do in my spare time for chuckles) & came across several commentors on my Dirty Mom vs Primped Mom piece wondering what the H-E-double hockey sticks was “third day hair.”
