Jillian
I love shopping, I cannot deny that.

(Actually I tried denying myself those little treats by leaving my credit cards at home once and only bringing small amounts of cash with me but that was the one day that I realized life is short and we should all just enjoy the little things that come along, such as shoes, or purses...or a jar of hand cream. What? I quite like buying creams.)

So anyway,

I bought new lingerie today. I love lingerie. Could (would not) not get enough of it. Girls will always love lingerie. Lingerie makes me feel all girlie and sexy, that's the way girls should always feel. No matter what people tell us.

Today my new lingerie scared me. First, let me show you what I'm about to tell you about.

(See the framed set of lingerie? That's what I got, cute, aren't they?)

I have a habit of washing all my new clothes/lingerie before I wear them. Why? Simply because I make a face at the very thought of somebody else's armpit smell under the sleeves. See what I mean?

Because it is a new bra, I decided against putting it in the machine together with my laundry. I handwashed it instead. Now, if you have been following my entries over the past few months, you might have known that I am terribly phobic of wet hair, and rats. If you look at
the circled area in this picture, you will see a cute little ball of fur sewn on one of the straps. I thought it was cute at first.

That was before the little ball of fur got wet.

I was almost done washing the bra (I was oblivious of what it looked like at first) when I paid a little more attention to what I was doing. I noticed that the wet fur ball had shaped itself to have three spiky points. I thought it resembled a tiny mouse. I stood there staring (stupidly) at it for a few more seconds trying to convince myself that it would be okay when it dried. I wanted to reach out and squeeze it dry, but my body wasn't really responding to my thoughts anymore, it seems. Shortly after that my phobia completely took over and I ran away from the sink (where I was washing it) in a whimpering sort of way. I had to ask my brother to get it away from me and hang it out to dry.

I got dad to cut it off eventually. Didn't mean to get the entire family involved in such a petty thing, it just so happened that they were there. Dad left the wet fur ball on the garden table. I saw it again, and that sent me running into the kitchen. I had to made sure he threw it into the bin before I could even walk pass the area again.

Then they all laughed at me. My own parents. My brother went on playing his computer games as if it was the most normal thing for his sister to be so afraid of wet fur.

But you know me.
You know it was not just a ball of fur.
It was a wet ball of fur.
That had three spiky points.
That resembled a weird looking rat.

Right?

I knew it.
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