Bathroom Body Woes

Dang. Having a huge body image crisis at the movies!

I found the bathroom for Marilyn Monroe, but I can’t find the one for me!

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πŸ˜‰

Author: CJ Hartwell

After spending most of her life in Phoenix, Arizona, CJ Hartwell moved to the middle of Minnesota. Is she nuts? Probably. For updates on her sanity, click on the link to follow by email.

21 thoughts on “Bathroom Body Woes”

      1. We have our moments and that was surely one of the finest. My Grandfather was the Admiral in charge in the war and of course knew Churchill well … I wish I could travel back in time and eavesdrop (but not actually be bombed of course) …. sadly Grandpa died before I was born but my mother has always kept his character alive with her stories …. quite a fellow and very dry humour. I must see the film when it gets here …. love Gary Oldman.

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        1. Ooooohhh, now I’m REALLY impressed! Yes, you must see the film. I’m sure you’ll love it. We saw Dunkirk earlier this year and that was… well, maybe not “enjoyable” but it was a extremely good film that kept you engaged the entire time, despite having very little dialogue. Between the two I’d say Dunkirk is the better film, but Darkest Hour is more enjoyable.

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          1. Horses, dark ones, we all are. I haven’t seen either film because I frequent the local indie pit every Sunday with a group of old ladies who adopted me when they realised I was on my own. They make me young since I am the junior by 20 years minimum and in one case 41! I will certainly seek em both out. I like your summation. Honest. By that’s you 😊

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            1. Nor me … I’m almost beckoning age and the lack of self-consciousness it apparently brings. I have seen some fantastic films with my ladies but I leave the choices to them out of some sort of reverence to their age. I will however nudge them towards Churchilll (β€˜Shursh-heel’ as they will say) when it eventually staggers into our little flea pit.

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    1. Eventually I entered, I had no choice. I’m tellin’ ya, it was the eeriest bathroom I ever saw. Filled with curvaceous orange women, all hopping about on their pogo sticks and bumping into each other since they had no eyes. I managed to dart in between them and find an empty stall, but they kept knocking against the door and for someone who has a shy bladder in the best of circumstances, it caused me no end of grief. In truth, I missed the previews. πŸ˜”

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