I don’t really know what’s going on here.
All I know is that it was last Easter, I had fake brown hair, and was about to pee my pants (err suit?). I’m clearly struggling for air, about to keel over, and my poor mother is desperately trying to come to my rescue.
Let it be known that it was her idea I try on the suit to begin with.
Does that seem funny to you? I didn’t think so.
I also know (now) that it’s never a good idea to try on a wetsuit after eating fried chicken and macaroni and cheese.
At the time, I blamed the wetsuit, which was given to me by an ex-boyfriend’s mother and had hung in the back of my closet, unused for years and years. And after I finally peeled that horrendous thing off my body (pulling a few arm hairs along with it), I calmly hung it back up in my closet where it has remained ever since. And then I ate another piece of chicken. I really did!
Moral of the story: never become too big for your britches.
happy birthday, mom!