yes. my sweatpants have an elastic waistband.

as i write this, i am making every attempt not to swoon.  my heart is all a-flutter.  i believe it may have even... yes, it just skipped a beat.  being the ever giving fountain of compliments that he is, le cafard informed me that i "look good most days, except those days when (i) just don't give a fu@k".  hmm.

*newsflash* nine times out of ten?  i do not give a rat turd about how i look or what other people think.  i am not a complete slob, but i don't see the point in spending more than 15 or 20 minutes to do hair and makeup in the morning when i have a very physical job where i'm guaranteed to sweat and get nasty within an hour of the time i arrive on the job.  even drake in all his sagely wisdom said: "Sweat pants, hair tied, chillin' with no make-up on.  That's when you're the prettiest, I hope that you don't take it wrong"

come on now.  nobody is perfect allllll the time.  not even you, cafard.  i am holding out for a guy that thinks i'm a slamming piece of apple fritter regardless of whether i've spent 1.5 hours to get ready or just rolled out of bed.  remember what i said about the girls without eyebrows?  nobody can be made up all the time.  i'll give you a few minutes to recover from the shock of that shocking shocker.  seriously though... if you can't take me at my worst?  please, home fry, you can not take me at all. 

lesson for guys: wanna score points?  tell a girl she looks hotter than vindaloo even when she looks about as hot as a soggy french fry found on the floor of the car between the seat and console.  and you can't remember the last time you had french fries.