insert thought bubble here

I've been muted from the shock of Sunday's shopping expedition, which entailed lots of squeezing my fecund body into medieval torture devices trying on of Speedos in front of changeroom mirrors that are instilled with hate

Also, I'm deliberating on when compassion for one party becomes judgment of the other, and the irony of being judged judgmental. Pot meet kettle, or not?

Also, part deux, I'm in the middle of another episode of My Baby Is Dead, Part three thousand and forty two. That kinda keeps me quiet too......