It's a rainy day here in DC, my favorite kind of day. After all the hot and humid weather, it is nice to feel the cooler air, even if it is still a little muggy, the crisp raindrops make up for it. Makes me look forward to late summer, when you can start pulling the sweaters back out for mellow evenings on the patio with friends, cold beer, and fireflies.
But for now, it's just wet. I'm wearing a white shirt today. Two actually. A cami under a white button down. I'd have to get soaked to the core before my layers of white became see through enough to show anything. And I brought my umbrella so no chance of that happening. Yet I still wonder, as I dodge raindrops on my dash to the metro, past all the bus shelters teeming over with people seeking shelter from the clouds, if some guy is checking me out, hoping that I get drenched and he gets to judge his own personal wet t-shirt contest. I know boys in 7th grade hoped for this, and made all us 7th grade girls self conscious about wearing white in the rain. Sometimes boys just exist as perpetual 7th graders in my mind. Doesn't help the cause of manhood that some of them still act like it, too.
Secretly, I love the thought of ANY boy checking out my post-partum jiggly body. I just hope he's cute.