You Can't Catch Me
“Relief, because it was my text message tone and not my Instagram one, and panic because we’re creeping ever closer to “not a date” time, and I’m shaking from toe nails to split ends.
Meet at Rolling Scones? You good with that?
I bite back my smile as I text an “Okay” to Oliver. Gosh, his texting reminds me of his sticky-noting, and the Girl Stomach Zoo starts to have a party.
Oh! And I know I give Tiff so much crap about her obsession with fashion, but I think I’m going to hire her as my personal… whatever they call those people who dress other people. I’m in my own clothes, but she cut out a huge neck on one of my shirts—I gave permission for her to abuse it—and then she added this cinching stuff around the waist. So it’s loosey goosey around the Sharpies and mighty tighty around the hips. I’m wearing a skin-tight racer back tank underneath that helps my bra’s attempts to restrain my chest.
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