The spray tan had transferred to the wrap I was wearing. It had stained the material right below the scar on my chest where I had tied it. Oh well. Regardless, I still shimmy just fine as I turn the corner, walking sexy-like towards the lift.
I decided to call my mother at dawn. She had a fit when I told her about the stain. Hope she doesn’t try to choke me when I get home. She was evil like that. I call her a sham mom because real moms wouldn’t shell out beatings on their kids as she does.
I Write Her 