Copywriter & Brand Specialist

Last week, I T-boned a car going 55 MPH. Today, I got to pick up my personal belongings. We were on our way to Target. I needed coconut milk, a hair product, and a birthday card. It was my mom’s birthday. Steven’s kids were in the vehicle with me. Sophia was with her dad. We weren’t in any rush. The cruise was set, both hands on the wheel. I’m not sure the radio was even on. It was a beautiful day. As we approached an intersection, I noticed a long line of cars waiting on both sides of county road 37. I thought to myself, “Wow, this is really backed up.” Then B-L-I-N-K.

You know when you get out of the shower and you have that joyous opportunity to look at yourself naked in the mirror? Or maybe you don’t look at all. Maybe you were like me and just grabbed that Turkish cotton towel as quickly as you could and moved on to the next task. Well, I had a moment at the end of last summer when I took a FULL peek. I took a hard look at myself - - and for lack of a better term - - I got kinda pissed.

I'm wearing a pair of old joggers, a tight long sleeve, and a new zip-up. "Think the tag might still be on here." She says while looking down at her boob.

If you're a single, dating mama and you're reading this, please know I see you; and you're doing a fantastic job. Really wish they taught a class on this path of life in high school, but thank God they offered algebra.

I sweat through the dress I wore. Yep. Kept taking trips up to the restroom to unzip and cool off. Obviously my pits were toast. Two huge sweat circles. Then when I noticed the two smaller sweat circles forming underneath the boobs, I was like, "AHHH....hell no. So I walked all the way back to the cabin, sat naked in the bathroom, and blow-dried my stains of joy for a good 15 minutes or so until they were dry.