Good morning, everyone. I’ve had to go back on my Trazadone so I can stay asleep, which sucks because I need more medication like I need a hole in my head. However, I’m not up for two hours at three in the morning going, “Oh jeez. My shirt lightly brushed me.” I just saw off Mrs Magill’s family, and now I have a fridge full of leftovers, so I don’t have to cook this week. “But Maus”, I hear you say, “won’t you get tired of barbecue, pimento cheese, and Moussaka?” To which I say, “Heresy!!!”
My Grandma Magill’s family had a pecan grove on their property Down East. You did not want to walk out there until they had all fallen. Ask me how I know…
- Did yoga.
- Band
- Slept through my walking alarm nearly every morning for some strange reason, despite going to bed at a reasonable hour.
- Band
- Cute Chloé antics
- Band[1]
- Oh, yes. Some little, minor thing called: Started my medical transition.
Lily Your experience sounded wonderful. My Uncle Maus and his late husband did the pilgrimage about twenty or twenty-five years ago. They had repeatedly tried to get Mrs Magill and me to do it, but we had young children at that time. What king of training did you all do?
More possible TMI - I bought a bralette this weekend. It has helped immensely. It provides pressure, which is not uncomfortable, but it’s better than my shirt brushing past my top. I’m no longer pulling my shirt away from me, so winning?
Mrs Magill and I talked about boob sensitivity this weekend while we were out and about. She said, “Yeah, for most girls that’ll go on for a year or two until your mom finally believes you and buys you a bra.”
Yes - it’s Band season. Why do you ask? ↩︎