the glowing bra and the fireman in my kitchen.

My best friend Jami’s mother, Jolene, who I love to pieces, has always enforced modesty towards myself and all of our friends. I’m not saying I’m a skank or anything; I just like my skank shorts and a tank top to run in. Jolene doesn’t approve, which is fine, to each their own and what-not. But, naturally, I’m modest in my dress (and its part of my religion). I don’t like to be showing the world my pooch and non-cleavage!

Anyways, the other night, as I did a Seventeen workout in my room, booty shorts, a tiny white tank top, and a hot pink sports bra I wished my roommate good luck as she went to go on a mini date with a fireman. I continued my workout, proceeded to pick at my face, when I heard someone’s key turning the lock of our front door. I assumed it was my sister, getting home early from work, so I ran downstairs yelling, “WOMAN, WOMAN, WO-MAN! Guess WHAT? LYNSIE IS ON A DATE WITH TH..!”

I descended the stairs in record time, running past the open pantry door that was blocking my view to the kitchen, to find the fireman standing in my kitchen.

“Wrong woman!” Lynsie giggled, looking me up and down.

I then shook hands with the fireman, wearing booty shorts, my hot pink sports bra glowing under my tiny tank, face picked at and swollen.

Nice to meet you too, Mr. Fireman!