I am 30 years old. I am 30 years old. I am 30 years old. I am 30 years old. I am 30 years old. I am 30 years old. I am 30 years old. I am 30 years old. I am 30 years old. I am 30 years old. I am 30 years old. I am 30 years old. I am 30 years old. I am 30 years old. I am 30 years old. I am 30 years old. I am 30 years old. I am 30 years old. I am 30 years old. I am 30 years old. I am 30 years old. I am 30 years old. I am 30 years old. I am 30 years old. I am 30 years old. I am 30 years old. I am 30 years old. I am 30 years old. I am 30 years old. I am 30 years old. I am 30 years old. I am 30 years old. I am 30 years old. I am 30 years old. I am 30 years old. I am 30 years old. I am 30 years old. I am 30 years old. I am 30 years old. I am 30 years old. I am 30 years old. I am 30 years old. I am 30 years old. I am 30 years old. I am 30 years old. Alas, the horror creeps slowly and shows no sign of quarter.
Word is bond.
Word is bond.
VIEW 4 of 4 COMMENTS
Dresses are something else entirely. I wouldn't be caught dead falling asleep in a dress....though I had a boyfriend once who liked to wear one of my little black dresses to sleep. When we broke up, I let him keep it.