Thank you, everyone.
In response to the question, “Should Mrs. Mullet get negged for Portrait Painter Man” an astounding number of you—36!—said yes, I should do it.
Hah. It’s so easy to suggest someone else take her clothes off. (For the record, 11 of you said no, 6 of you didn’t care—yet you cared enough to vote—and 8 of you stopped reading after the heinous foot picture.)
And now…dun dun dun…my decision:
Forgettaboutit. No way, no how. Nope.
I know—you think I’m a wuss. Actually, I was all set to say yes. I had even psyched myself up for it (as much as one can). But then, I went back to Portrait Painter Man’s studio for another sitting, and we started talking about how he chooses poses. I joked, “Surely I’m the first to sit astride this armchair [because it’s such a silly pose]” and he put down his brush and showed me his collection of paintings featuring other women sitting in the exact same pose. Some were naked. Ok, many were naked.
And I had an ew moment. Like, ew, I don’t want to join his collection of girls. I thought I was special. Now? I feel so…so…cliché. Sniffle, sniffle.
But I’ll get over it.
Something else factored into my decision, and that was lack of time (or, rather, lack of desire to lose any more time sitting on top of an armchair). And it, um, is a good segue into my next decision. I’ve been struggling lately to manage work, life, cuddle time with Junior, couch time with Chuck, groceries, stressing, vacuuming, laundry, eating, sleeping. I need to fricken relax more. I’ve had an idea for a children’s book for 10 years—10 fucking years!—and it finally hit me that it’s not going to write itself. So I’m cutting back on my posting. I realize I’m probably committing blog suicide by doing this, but it’s a chance I’m going to have to take.
Fully dressed, of course.
Showing posts with label pooped. Show all posts
Showing posts with label pooped. Show all posts
Sunday, August 16, 2009
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