She could see the moon from her shower and instantly wondered if the universe could see her naked.
She was glad.
Glad that the galaxies and all those extra terrestrials we know nothing about could see her breasts. Her many curves that told the stories of lovers who had come and gone, and of her big, beautiful heart-shaped ass that boasted of its many dances with jazzercise and irritable bowel syndrome.
She knew she could be seen from space, but she was glad.
She had a tattoo on the bottom of her left foot. A remarkable choice that read, “Tim and Lisa forever.” Forever was only eight months long, and now she had the pleasant satisfaction of stepping on that ‘forever’ whenever she was up on her feet.
It was a pain in the ass tattoo. Lucky, really, no one could see it. She recently heard from a co-worker that he was seeing someone else.
“Tim and predictably frilly dumb blonde. Forever.”
It was fine. No really, it was. She had a dog and two goldfish. She was beginning to wonder if her habit of animal hoarding was getting out of hand. She decided, that for now, it was fine. Good for her.
Whatever mixed-up, lonely girl jargon to make it to the next rent check.
She was by all means, quite naked.
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