So, I thought we could join a nudist colony. It seems the only logical thing to do, and also very green, which is very hipster of me considering I don't even recycle. But I care deeply about the planet, goshdarnit!
But, the thing is, I don't want to join a Fit nudist colony, it'd have to be Frumpy nudist colony. Maybe a nudist colony/fat camp? Do they have those? If not, they should. It'd be motivating for the members, although it'd backfire on me. They'd all be out doing deep knee bends and squats and I'd be eating cheese. Pretty soon, it'd be a Fat Camp for one and that's hardly a camp, people.
On the other hand I don't know what Gloria, my muffin top, would do if I gave her room to breathe, and frankly, the idea is a little terrifying. I can keep her under control with some flat tab Yoga pants, or some jeans in a size that some mature adults would call, too small, or some high waist-ed granny panties. If I gave her room to, you know, maneuver, she might spread or something, like Jabba the Hut. She could ooze into things, like small children and puppies, and also, she hasn't quite forgiven me for the Waxing Incident of Which I Do Not Speak (just write about), and she may get revenge yet.
Also, this would be a family affair and Gianni especially, should not be encouraged to flaunt his birthday suit. He already speaks of body parts with disturbing nonchalance, usually at the most inopportune times. Like when conversing with pastors ("did you know weenies can grow?!") or swinging at the park (while shouting, "underdogs make my weenie tickle!")
My other idea, if the whole nudist colony doesn't pan out (or if they reject our application for membership), is disposable clothing. I came up with this idea when I had babies and they were constantly pooping out their onesies and making yellow stains all over creation. Pop-up onesies that come in a tissue box!
How do I get on Shark Tank?
Another application? Really? Forget it.
Or I could just finish the laundry and threaten to cut the next person who casually flips their socks into my empty hamper. I am always harping on everyone about how you never need to wash jeans. Okay, not NEVER never, but MOSTLY never. I can go weeks without washing my jeans, but I confess it's not just because I fret about the planet, it's because I hate that dance you have to do to get back inside them after washing.
You know the one:
shimmy, shimmy, shake, pour, groan, kick, stretch, gasp, cry, ooze, shimmy, nap, suffocate, whimper, pep talk Gloria.
This is why homeschool moms wear denim jumpers. No, not because they're fashion challenged, but because they don't the time for such nonsense; they're too busy