A few days ago I asked Julia if I could take her picture. She agreed and I asked her to pose for me. This is what I got.
I had asked her to smile and she said, “No, Mom. I look like this.”
Then, she told me to wait while she ran and grabbed her stuffed bunny and posed. Again, I asked her to smile, but she replied with “I look like this.” So, I took the picture.
I think this may be proof that I’ve been watching a little too much of America’s Next Top Model. What can I say? It’s an addiction. Some people slip outside to get a puff of a cigarette. Others hide in the pantry while they snarf down a package of Oreo cookies. I flip on the television and watch America’s Next Top Model.
Oh, and if you didn’t click on the linked-up text up there, you should. It will take you to a great post on my husband’s brand new blog. You should check it out. He’s brilliant and funny and the new blog you should be reading.
(A little sidenote here: if you go to his blog and you happen to notice the profile picture, please ignore that fact that my boobs look absolutely gargantuan and I look like I’m drunk. I wish I could say I was, but I’m not. And while you may think I’m defeating the purpose of getting you to actually ignore the picture, I guess I just want to be sure that you know that I know that I look look less than my best and completely overwhelmed by a massive amount of boobage.)