Got Milk?

nnGot Milk?
I had 5 minutes to myself the other day so I made a mad dash into my favorite honey hole (AKA: Thrift shop). I weeded past the 1983 t-shirts with armpit stains, past the 1992 denim dress (you know, the dresses that inspired the makers of Viagra), and past the used bras (who BUYS those!?!?!) And then, I spotted it… a brand new, name brand, toille, blue and white gown and robe set in my size! I love toille and I ain’t gonna lie… my night shirts that have paint on them would shame me and my mama if I had to go to the hospital for something (God forbid) and my husband has to drag those rags up there to the hospital. Anyway.. I snatched it, paid and ran it home to launder my new acquisition in in soap and hot water.

That evening I bathed and was so excited to get my new duds on. I put the gown on…but there was something wrong.. I looked down and there were these two BIG ASS holes in the front almost hidden but not so much (because my “girls” likes the real estate if-ya-know-what-I-mean). Well hell, I had wound up with a damned NURSING set! Imagine what the check out girl must have thought with my old ass up there giddy about my find and how I “really needed” this. Geez, she probably called freakin’ Ripley’s Believe It or Not when I left to get a camera man and reporter to my house because there was an old gal buying a nursing set.

Advertisements

6 thoughts on “Got Milk?

  1. LOL. I bought a little cami and been wearing it for months before I JUST discovered it was a nursing top. And I got all excited about my cool new shirt I found at the thrift until I discovered it was maternity………..

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s