Ch Ch Ch Changes

Due to the fact that it's Thursday and that I'm beyond exhausted and that I think the walls of my house are literally closing in on me, I went shopping with SMF tonight.  Because that's what SMF's are for.  Their most fundamental reason for existence is to come up with a ploy to get you out of the house so the two of you can meander the isles of Target and analyze why "the ex" would have put a picture of his hotness on facebook.  The nerve!  Oh, and to giggle and snicker while rummaging through the racy lingerie (yes, we're 10, thanks for asking).  And to quarrel over who would kick who's tuckus between Tinkerbell and Thumbelina (totally Tink).  And to admit to each other that we're scared to have daughters that might turn into the hideous little ogres that we recall being ourselves (we're so screwed).  But also to gush over anything with even a hint of pink.  And to declare ourselves liberated in terms of body image, except for here, here, here, here, and here.  And to agree with each other that nothing will ever even come CLOSE to that night 15 years ago when we stole the car and drove to our Boyfriend's (at the time) houses to get a little action.  And then SMF goes a yammering about her latest epiphany regarding financial organization, the money envelope (we share an affinity for Dave Ramsey).  She gets so excited about showing me this that she looses all appendage control she seemed to have been demonstrating, and flings her money right into the air.  Were talking 500 dollars in $10's and $20's fluttering down to the ground.  Naturally begins the roaring of laughter and the crossing of legs in an attempt to prevent leakage.  Because 30 years and 3 pregnancies (each) changes things.  But not everything.