I made Roger pay the check for brunch today with cash because the waitress kept looking at me in that I-want-to-dispose-of-you-and-assume-your-place-in-the-adorable-little-family-you've-created kind of way. You know the one. No? You mean it's just me?
Thinking about Christmas shopping sends me into a bit of a panic. I should be jolly and getting into the spirit but I find myself dwelling on what to get those "hard to shop for" people on my list. I don't think it's a good sign when one of the gifts I gave my mother last year is still sitting on her stereo, unopened.
See that? That's me. No, not in the belly shot or in the one of the cute kid or even in the sweet family photo. The naked chick. I am the "shapely," Rubenesque naked chick. I was as shocked as you probably are. Not about the photo. Of course I knew about the photo. But what I didn't know was that it was going to appear on the photographer's web site. I agreed that she could hang the photo in her studio (which is so not located in the same town in which I live, thankyouverymuch.). But back then? Three years ago? She most certainly did not have a web site nor did she ever tell me that she'd be using that image on one. I found out accidentally when I received a promotional postcard in the mail and thought, "Oh. How cool. She has a web site now. I should go check it out and...OH MY GOD." To be clear, I'm not (usually) just some pervert who likes pervy photos of her naked self. This photo was part of a shoot for a sexy (and very private) book I had created for Roger as a wedding gift (and this photo also hangs in a frame on the wall by Roger's side of the bed). So, there you have it. Me in all of my backside, nekkid glory.
What with the nudity and all, I think that's enough confessing for one day. Got anything you want to get off your chest?