I was feeling a little saucy the other day, so when I saw the Tinker Bell T-shirt with the word FLIRT emblazed across the front of it on the clearance rack at Wal-Mart, I succumbed.
So what if the seventeenth anniversary of my twenty-ninth birthday is right around the corner, I’m still cute. And Flirty! You could even say I exude a carefree sassiness that says I can take the world on with a smile. (But not when I first get up, I have to have coffee and put my face on first. Then I am carefree sassy all day everyday and twice on Sunday.)
Ok, I’m wearing the T-shirt, and my good bra, the one that turns back time, and I am feeling it. Flirty! That’s me. Flirty! Why don’t I just saunter, yeah saunter, over to the ABC liquor store and try on something in a Chardonnay.
Oh looky here. They are having a wine tasting, must be my flirty luck. “Yes I would like to try a little taste, not too much,” snorty laugh, “do you need to see my ID? “
“No ma'am, would you like me to refill that?”
“Yeah, hit me”
I couldn’t understand why everywhere I went that day, people didn’t seem to respond to my overt Flirty sassiness. WTF?
So when Wayne got home, I asked him. “Baby, do you think I’m pretty.”
Auto response: “Pretty and smart and fun to be with, I am the luckiest man alive.”
Well, he’s right about that. “Yes baby, but am I flirty?"
He gives me a good solid once over then gently delivers the death knell. “It would be really hard for anyone to be flirty with their bi-focals hanging from a chain.”
I’ll be dipped in shit. I walked around all day with my FLIRT semi-obscured by dangling reading glasses.
He tries to soften the blow. “That’s kind of like wearing a hernia belt with sweat pants that say JUICY on the ass. Nobody could pull that off, no matter how juicy their ass was.”
“Thanks baby; you always know just what to say.”
I guess I will just have to start stowing my glasses inside my shirt and only pull them out as needed.
But there’s one problem with that plan: It’s hard to read the carbohydrates on the back of the whole grain, super fiber, cereal box when your glasses have boob glitter on the lenses.