The match is still hours away and I can't shut my brain off long enough to sleep. Tell me what you'd do to wear me out.
The match is still hours away and I can't shut my brain off long enough to sleep. Tell me what you'd do to wear me out.
Champions League is back tomorrow and Real Madrid vs Inter opens the whole thing — I've already got my watch-party outfit sorted. Would you let me sit through the whole match like this?
Two and a half weeks out from Olympia and my entire fridge is rows of the same sad chicken. This shirt gave up on me around container four — tell me you'd bring me something off-plan.
Got all dressed up for a Friday night out and then Real Madrid kicked off and that was the end of that plan. My heels are on the floor and I'm not going anywhere. Sit with me?
Finally put real clothes on for once and now I'm wondering why I bother — this dress keeps climbing every time I cross my legs. Tell me you'd behave yourself if you were sitting across from me.
The North American Championships are streaming and I told myself I'd just roll out while I watched — that was an hour ago and I haven't moved off this floor. Tell me you'd pull me off it.
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Houston Pro results just dropped and watching the Figure winner walk off that stage lit something under me I can't put out. Made something for you while I'm still burning. Want to see what all this restless energy turns into?
The US Open first round just started and I've already given up on doing anything productive. This shirt gave up on covering me about the same time. Would you watch the match or watch me?
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Last chance to qualify for Olympia and the matches won't stop coming — I gave up trying to focus on either and did this instead. Want to see what happens when I stop caring about anything else?
The Houston Pro is today and I can't stop checking my own lines in this mirror — somewhere between flexing and admiring what I saw, the towel came off. Would you grade me like the judges do?