Rebecca:
What size girl undies would you buy for a boy with a 32 inch waist?

Bonnie:
Hmm…

Bonnie:
I’m so bad with boy girl measurements but like a seven? I don’t know.

Rebecca:
I bought a 6 and it looks right.

Rebecca:
I mean…I think they’ll fit his waist but his hips are 39 inches and I don’t want them to be uncomfortable for him.

Rebecca:
Of course they’re spandex panties…well, partly.

Bonnie:
Probably a six then, you know I find it’s got a lot to do with the cut.

Rebecca:
These are boy cut.

Rebecca:
Ironic but true.

Rebecca:
So they’re roomy in the legs anyway.

Bonnie:
Yeah..I love boy shorts :/ but I’ve recently become addicted to underwear with things written on the ass..which breaks my heart.

Rebecca:
You have a booty that’s far smaller than mine.

Rebecca:
The only writing they put on underwear my size is “Goodyear.”

About a year ago, I packed away all of my sex toys. Just now, I was going through my closet looking for some photos and I found half of my sex toys. It’s rather disturbing—like biting into an apple and finding half of a worm. Where the hell did the other toys go? Do I want to know? Do I want them back?

I wonder who I’d write to about possibly adding a new month to the yearly calendar. I’m pretty sure that “Cheesuary” needs to be a month.

Preferably this month.

Someone came to Fat Brunettes by searching the term “kicked in cooter.”

I’m so skeeved out it isn’t funny.

You know you’re fat when a police officer is beating you with his/her nightstick telling you to ‘break it up’ and then suddenly realizes you’re not a crowd.

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