I like saying the word, vagina. It shocks people and produces a hilarious effect. Wednesday nights I meet up with fellow college kids (is that a misnomer?) at my church for... I don't know what, really. Tonight we played Taboo, last week we met at a coffee shop to discuss a book, and we've been planning to have a bonfire for the past few weeks now. I guess the word I'm looking for to describe our weekly gathering is fellowship.
Anyways, tonight a group of us were eating dinner, and the desert- a generic berry crumble/pie/tart- was a cheery shade of red. After I mentioned that I only wanted two children coming out of MY vagina, one of the guys(!) thoughtfully remarked about the crumble/pie/tart. Ack!
How did that back fire onto me?
My shoulders are pleasingly sore from the fifty-eleven pushups I did yesterday. Summer is coming, and so are my FLOTUS arms.
One thing that I do exceptionally well? Sing. Just ask my shower head.
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