Vent

Ugh. So this morning I'm getting ready for work and I go to heat up my iron. Now normally, the indicator continually blinks on standby, but not today.

"Oh shit."

So I'm tryin all the different plugs on the powerstrip, EVEN THOUGH everything else is working fine. I go to the bathroom, try the plug in there. Nothing.

"FUCK!"

I call my best friend to see if she can help a sista out and let me come use her iron but she's already out the door. So I weigh my options...3 pairs of slacks, all wrinkled beyond recognition...or a pink flower dress I got from Old Navy that no matter what, never looks wrinkled.

Dress it is.

But of course with this being MY life, shit couldn't just end there.

As I am moving in two days, my apartment is in shambles, bags boxes and clothes everywhere. I had actually packed the Old Navy dress away for Goodwill. Because I haven't worn it in a good 3-4 years so I was sure it no longer fit but was still in great condition. Why not give it to someone less fortunate?

So of course the dress was at the BOTTOM of the bag. I find it, and of course, the dress that NEVER wrinkles has a few good ones, but no biggie, they can be worked with. So I go to pull the dress over my head, struggle to find the arm holes cuz the dress is a little tight on my size 7 frame. I'm tugging at the dress and for the life of me, can NOT get it past my boobs.

DOUBLE U TEE EFF?!

Then I realize one of the "arm holes" is actually the side zipper. Whew. So I get myself together, put my arm in the right hole but can't zip it up all the way.

"SONOFABITCH!!!"

Let me paint you all a picture real quick. It's already after 8:05 (so that makes me late), I have no central a/c, and it's already 70 degrees outside. Now that may seem like nothing to you, but my heart started pumping fast and furious when I realized my iron had died. So I'm HEATED, in every sense of the word.

But I know that real G's have to make sacrifices. So I pull on my brown Ralph Lauren cardigan (to cover up the half-mast zipper), pull my sleeves up, slip on my brown flats and grab my brown-and-pink multi-colored Vera Bradley purse, and head out the door.

This damn dress is so tight I can hardly breathe. Definitely shows my tummy I try so hard to suck in everyday. I can't breathe too hard for fear it'll rip in half, a la The Hulk. It keeps riding up in the back so it makes me look like I got the stank booty walk when that's hardly the case. When I sit down it rides halfway up my thighs so it gives all the Baltimore pervs on the bus a nice little peep show. But dammit I got the whole day to get through, so fuck it.

Fuck you iron, for burning me on Saturday and dying on Monday. The same thing happens to bees. So what does that say about you? BEETCH!!

Fuck you dress, for not gaining material where my body gained pounds.

Fuck you Baltimore pervs. Although you'd probably like that. Ew.

Fuck all three of yall, yall aint shit.

And I still made it to work on time.