Bare feet in a Starbucks is something you just won’t see in Manhattan, but here it is, in this town somewhere north of Los Angeles just off the Pacific Coast Highway. And the feet aren't just bare, they're sandy, tracking all sorts of footness everywhere. A short girl no older than 14, but probably closer to 11, wetsuit rolled down to her waist, exposing a triangle bikini top over a chest starting to unflatten, stands slouching by a table where her companions slump, tousled blondish hair clinging to her tanned shoulders. I feel like the lone clothed-and-shoe'd brunette for miles.
fresh-baked at 10:28 PMThis post makes me homesick for my former sandy footiness (and sand from the beach in some of my other crevices!)
Offered by: Vendela on June 4, 2008 10:52 PMYou been mentioning "LA" quite a bit, no? You want to come visit me, don't you? You can come, and we can skip down the street singing, "La la la la la." Or we can sit in the Chinese restaurant down the street that only uses fresh! organic! vegetables and you can say "fuck!" a lot (loudly) and we can throw our pfists around. That's sure to make us stand out.
Offered by: Nikki on June 4, 2008 6:00 PMI think I saw this on Dateline's 'To catch a Predator.'
Offered by: Ds on June 3, 2008 10:50 PMWelcome to my world. Except I'm usually the only real-breasted larger woman around. And my tan isn't in full force yet, so I stand out even more. Ppphhhtttt. That's how life goes sometimes.
Offered by: Da Goddess on June 3, 2008 3:24 AM
