Liv has some sort of disorder. I have no other way to categorize it.
I was getting ready for our Valentine's Day date and she came to watch me. After a minute she says, "That makes me tickle."
"What makes you tickle?"
"When you put on too much make-up or wear funny shirts like that."
I smiled. How sweet. But there was an ackward pause.
"A good tickle or a bad tickle?"
"A bad tickle."
This comes from a girl who, in a heartbeat would choose the following dress when we window shop...
Liv in 10 years (in her wildest dreams)
F.Y.I. I found this under "ghetto prom dress" on google.
YOU HAVE TO DO THAT SEARCH AND LOOK FOR THE BLACK GIRL IN THE LONG WHITE "GOWN"!
I guess she prefers I look like my usual slob.
She catches "Toddlers and Tiaras" commercials (confession: I watch those shows when they go to bed hehehe), and begs me to do a pageant. ick. But I have to look like a cow in order for her tummy not to tickle.
I guess if I hadn't "let myself go" she wouldn't know the difference.
