Doing my fears this month, in case you missed day one.
Day 21: Unitards
Rate on the scary scale from 1-10: 4
WARNING (yes, another disclaimer): This is one of those posts that may make you uncomfortable if you don't like reading about boobs. (Or laugh if you are like Hope ;) )
You know those cute little girls that take ballet or dance class and have their pictures and awards hung up? Ya, I was not one of those girls. I could not face the unitard.
Let's just say I've been... blessed in a certain area of my body. Too blessed. Even at a young age. And there's no way someone is squeezing these juggers into a unitard, because the entire time they will be protesting to get out.
Every movement I make, I swear, I'd be terrified that POP! There's a boob!
So when a few of my friends wanted to sign up for dance, I couldn't stop the images of strutting my stuff out on the field when suddenly my boobs fly out in front of the entire school. So dance was not an option of mine.
I mean, gym was bad enough when we had to do jumping jacks.
And guess who's somewhere else today?? Angie over at Live to Write, Edit When Necessary (PS, I love her blog title) interviewed yours truly. Pay me a visit? Thanks friends!