I have always loved pingpong. And verbal pingpong is the best. Actually - it's funny -- I'm quickwitted that way in writing/typing. I don't have to "breathe" or contend with aches & pains, or other concerns -- such as an accessory malfunction on my lame date yesterday -- my brand-new hair clips - didn't hold my hair -- so my hair was slipping out the whole while we walked, and I looked a mess. (Also - should I have worn a short jacket? To show off my legs? And if anything I only looked a little bit more - let's say, padded - because I was freaking padded -- his last email was some promise of a romantic "outdoor fire" so I was like -- man, I'm going to freeze to death, so I'm leaving on my stockings under my snug jeans, and I'm putting a couple of layers ('snugtee' and black cashmere top) beneath my sexy filmy 'peasant top' ---).
So yeah, I was a bit padded, feeling a bit like a kid in a snowsuit, not exactly arms & limbs stuck out in stiff akimbo -- but not in my usual lightest possible layers -- I will not link posts here, darling, but I'm sure you remember how much I love hanging around in the nude in summertime...
I realize now -- that he and I were never really going to hit it off.
I suppose that accounts for my "rebound" pingpong game just now.
I'm 5'6", not sure my weight (don't have a scale), but I'm a size 14/16***
full-figured; always a few pounds to lose, but toned & shapely -- definitely HWP
(if you like "petite & skinny" -- it was nice knowing you, Arthur)
I'm attractive in person -- but am not a conventional beauty
I am not "pretty" -- but I am nice-looking
(so - again - if that's a deal breaker because in your heart-of-hearts you're looking for Heidi Klum...)
sweetheart, sometimes I worry about myself -- I have renewed the copy of the E.D. study, about Emily's relationship with her maid Maggie... and I just never seem to feel like picking it up. I am just so distracted with so many other thoughts & commotions.
And maybe I don't really want to know about how E.D.'s maid inspired Emily?
D feels sometimes that he's my maid.
And I don't feel inspired by him in the least.
Oh sweetheart, I am waxing dyspeptic here a bit. I mean to, I don't mean to... I don't know.
I have a date tomorrow. I am looking forward to meeting him. Honestly, he sounds really sweet, in the tiniest communications we've had.
He's going to be a bit late tomorrow - he emailed me to say. What was to be morning coffee, will now be a lunch date.
Maybe he can recommend his good dentist in Pittsfield. It's been -- well, way too long -- since I had my teeth cleaned...