He says, “Just so we’re clear I can’t join myspace.”
I say “I didn’t ask you to. I just said it was pretty.”
It’s not going to be for everyone. Or anyone. Maybe it’s just for me. Tonight.
"I wish more people were on Myspace "
yellowcakeuranium replied to your post “ryanlrussell replied to your post “ryanlrussell replied to your post…”
But with sweat and …. really?
The pants are made to wick it away. I’ll be honest, with underwear is uncomfortable. Good yoga pants are made to be snug (think runner compression pants). I mean, seriously how often have you seen VPL on a photo of a yogi, or a yoga class?
With skirts I generally have on stockings but no underwear to avoid VPL. Sometimes I’ll wear a thong but those things are satans underwear.
ryanlrussell replied to your post “ryanlrussell replied to your post “Business Woman” Why was there no…”
Lines…VPL… so, in the yoga pants you wear all the time…
Yea no. Practically never. Most yogis I know are the same when it comes to yoga pants.
I was 22 and working for a internet rankings startup in Laguna Hills, CA. The men all wore jeans with sports coats while the girl, me, the only girl in the office, was expected to wear business-ey attire. What that meant to me at the time was a strip mall of stores like Forever 21 and Wet Seal. It was in these places I would find my pinstriped skin tight pants, my little suit jackets over a cleavage baring tank top, and painted on mini-skirts.
On a particularly gorgeous California day I had the Disney morning. You know the ones where you wake unassisted by an alarm, and you just know you look good that day. It was on one of those days that I decided to wear one of my new slutwear office pencil skirts with slit in the back. Overconfidence was never a good idea. It normally resulted in me injuring or embarrassing myself in some pretty impressive ways. But that day I was feeling it. Even walking in I was getting stares of appreciation and was distracted with how awesome I must look. My boss Jim asked if someone would make a coffee run and it being a beautiful day I volunteered. He smiled and winked at me as he gave me money for everyone and I just stood there acting like I didn’t know I was being checked out hard by every man in the room. He followed me to the door grinning. He must be in love with me.
At the Starbucks of choice I hear a few wolf whistles and am asked out. I flip my hair, tell him I’m taken and saunter back out to my car. As I drive I can’t help think that I may be too pretty to continue working in an office. I should totally get paid to be pretty. I get back to the office and walk around handing each team member their coffee of choice, inwardly laughing at how superior I am and how I have them all wrapped around my finger. They all watch as I leave. Finally to my own desk I sit and, huh that’s weird. I can feel the seat. Like REALLY feel the seat. I stand now on shaky new fawn legs and feel behind. My fingers find skin. Mine. My ass. By now I’m hyperventilating and with a sound like a dying goat I confirm that my skirt slit had indeed ripped itself just high enough to reveal my total lack of underwear and underside of my ass and has been this way all morning.
I laugh cried, sweating, as I moved at the speed of light back out to my car where I gratefully found a pair of jeans. I tossed the skirt in the trash on my walk back along with my pride, modeling career and my feeling of “pretty”.
I set the slow cooker before I left for the studio this morning. Pulled pork sliders with homemade pickles for dinner! I got the kiddos approval and Lou nommed himself into a food coma #keto #wencooks