Today happened what we all hate and fear in life.

No, I’m not talking about Election Day.

I’m talking about an encounter with your Ex.

Encountering an Ex can be the most uncomfortable experience in our adult lives.

And I’m talking about Ex’s in general.

Ex husband, ex boss, ex doctor, ex mother in law, ex cetera.

If this person is your ex it’s because he/she was someone in your past, and if he/she is your ex, it’s because something happened and this person is no longer in your life or your present.


I found myself doing a little grocery shopping (I should say a “lot” of grocery shopping because of the bill that left my account on empty) and just three cashiers away, in the 15 items or less register, there he was. The Ex.

I thanked God for those two extra cans of beans.

The Ex boyfriend from High School. My first real love.

The one who make my heart flutter. The cutest, most proper boy in school. The one all girls wanted in 10th grade and out of all the girls he could have, he got me, the tomboy straight out of hell. I ended up being the recipient of all the Sad Sam plush toys, the Mon Cheries and the visits to my house.

He was also the one who got his heart broken by me and later vice versa with a small comeback during our Senior Year. He was also the one that dated a younger girl during said year, making me wanna scratch her eyes out.

Yuck. High School was so dramatic.

After our graduation I had seen him a few times, nothing long, some light flirtation, but nothing serious. After that I had always dreamt of seeing him again. Once I bumped into his sisters and I was, let’s say, in not such a great shape. I had to redeem myself.

I dreamt of bumping into him with Miss C in my hands, very nicely mannered, dressed very cutely and my chunk of engagement ring on my finger, not to mention 10 pounds lighter.

Today was not that moment. Due to the bad weather I had opted for a horizontal striped shirt. Me, being the fashionista that I am, knew very well that horizontal stripes were a killer no-no. I had some faded jeans, boots, hair all messy and no make up at all. And over all things, I had left my ring at home.

It was the re encounter from hell.

And let me just add, I feel nothing for my ex, I had no intentions of anything, but I wanted to be seen and say “See what I’ve been up to?”

Don’t give me that look, deep down inside, or right on top you think just the same.

I looked at him from afar. I became falsely entertained by some chewing gum that promised brighter and cleaner teeth. I hid behind the magazines in the register line, looking like a bum. He was paused in time, looking just fresh out of high school. Mr. Burns and him must drink from the same tap water.

I observed him while he checked out his few items. I couldn’t see exactly what he bought; maybe if I did I would have had some insight of his new life.

He left. He didn’t see me or if he did, he pretended not to. If that was the case, thank the Heavens.

After that incident I hit up the house of a very almost ready to burst Empress for some comfort food. Lord knows I needed it.

He was shopping in my zone. That supermarket, that whole perimeter was now a danger zone.

Now I’ll have to do my hair.

Tonight I’ll sleep with my ring and I swear on my mother’s life that I’ll smear on some lipstick and even if it pours tomorrow I’ll get all fancied up because I got a good looking boyfriend, a nice kid and that I’ve got to show off.

Yesterday a lady friend, a lady friend a tidbit advanced in age, confessed her love for thongs.

Like her truly passionate love for thongs and how she loves wearing them to bed.

Don't get me wrong, I am not against thongs.

I have two or three to avoid VPL (visible panty lines) but I don't sleep in them.

I don't like the idea of a string shoved up my you know what.

I am a very old fashioned traditional Hanes Cotton Bikini or Boy shorts lovin' kind of gal.

Nothing like cotton to keep my lady parts cool.

So I had no idea how to tell this lady friend that I wasn't interested in any more information regarding her love for thongs.

I am open to thong talking with a very select group of gals, it's just not something I discuss while in the dairy aisle in my local supermarket.

What subject do you tip toe around with only a select group?

I have discovered prehistoric comment on my commnet section of my blog. For some strange reason they were not arriving at my inbox in my email. I apologize for those who think I might have been not publishing them.

In other nice news...I will now officially present my babies. I don't have a lot of money to spend, but I do know how to hunt for hot internet bargains...and they don't call me shoegirl for nothing:

I've been in sort of a fashion slump dump these past few weeks.


Fashion slump as in wrinkled outfits, mismatched wardrobes, repeat jeans mode.

Today I about had enough.

My shoes were paying the price of my laziness.

I got fancied up today. Nice skirt, nice blouse and wonderful shoes!

Someone actually honked their horn at me today. I'd like to think it was that I looked nice and not that I parked in the middle of the lane to drop the Kid off at a school.

A girl can dream now can she...
Now if only I can look fabulous tonight without giving the impression that I was trying extra hard to look great on purpose because I'll be seeing some people (The Friend) who make me extra uncomfortable and always happens to look fashionably chick.

No...I haven't found a cure for Autism...

I still have mad scientists under the grip of my whip working on that in the shack of my backyard...

But, alas, it is the most beautiful day in my life...

I fit into a size 6 skinny leg pair of Jeans!!!!!!!!!!!


I've lost one whole pantsize...

Praise Jesus!!!

Do you know what that does to my self-esteem???
I didn't have to scream in the fitting room or kill the sales clerk...

I went into the horrid corridor of death aka the fitting room, with a size 8 and a size 6....


I decided to be a fool and try on the 6 first...and to my surprise...

::Gasp::
The fit...they fit good..no ass hanging out....they were even size 6 'short' which means I don't have to take them to the tailor to get them fixed...

The only downside...
I had to pay 60 bucks for them...

But alas, Gap...you are the man...and I'd pay any price for a good pair of jeans that will fit good....especially if it means I'm skinnier...

You know what that means?
I have to buy some new shoes to celebrate...

Now, ::ponders:: if only I can do something about reducing my boobs...

::scrapes bottom of purse for change::

Nope...that'll have to wait for now...

with my ass looking so good in new jeans no one will notice the mommy boobs...

::crosses fingers::