Saturday was such a beautiful, yet hectic day. I had to run all over DC-MD-VA before my date with RMiller . My Lil' Pookie had to get another round of shots, two in each leg. She was not a happy camper. At six months old, she's holdin it down at 18 lbs! Next, the boy had to get a haircut cause he was lookin right busted. I love his barber. I never have to tell him how I want it cut; he already knows. After six years of cuttin the same head, I'd question him if he didn't pick up on something.
I thought it would be fun to get a lil fresh for my date, eventhough it was just RMiller. Like I need an excuse to shop. LOL. I run up in LB right fast with the intention of gettin a cute girly t-shirt. My eye wanders over to the denim wall with that $19.99 luring me over. I mean it's just 20 bucks, right?
I'm pissed cause the have NO Bootcut Stretch. At. All. They got regla bootcut but, um, I need that stretchin action. They had them stupid white girl Flare Leg jeans. I check out Classic Cut since that appears to be my best option. Again, NOTHING in my size. They be slippin on they pimpin in the summer, figurin fat girls don't like jeans in the summer. Damn if we dont! They do have the next size smaller. I contemplate...I figure it should be aiite since they stretch.
I get home and try the jeans on....they pull up okay. But can they button? Let the choir say: "Haaaaaaaaayle nawwwl." I even laid down on the bed to get that extra flat belly. Not gon' happen, Cap'n. They could button by that point, but damn if I could breathe. I'll save thouse for a skinny day. My ass looked real good in em though.
Me n RMiller head out to Potomac Yard to see ATL. Of course we had to go see the hood movie on opening weekend. That's something I rarely do but we haven't seen each other in a while. He was actually on time to pick me up...I was still in the damn shower gettin my strawberry exfoliation on! He's ALWAYS late. For everything. How he gon' be on time when I'm bein all late? That aint cool.
We chillin, as always. I love his company. We usually don't talk much during the drive; it's a comfortable silence. While he's pushin bout 85, I'm laid back with the sunroof open...just chillin. Out of the blue he gon' ask, "What nigga you cheatin on?" I jump a bit cause he caught me off guard. Damn near blew my buzz. I looked him in the eye to see when he was gon' start laughin, but he wasn't playin. I turned the music down so I wouldn't miss the seriousness in his tone. He repeated himself. I'm in flux: flabbergasted yet smirking. I gather my thoughts and respond, "I'm not cheating on anybody, but if I were, what difference would it make to you?" Yeah, he changed the subject after that.
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