The wrong day for an ill-fitting shirt

This morning I realized that my favourite shirt has hit maximum stretch and is no longer wearable if I don't want massive cleavage, as my belly stretches it to the limit. But because I was in a hurry to make it to school early, I decided to wear it one last time and just hope that no one notices me popping out of my shirt.

I left 5 minutes early because today is Canada Day so, to celebrate, I decided to pick up a little pastry for german class. You have to get to the bakery early to get the good sweet brotchen or buns and because they are really cheap, they go fast. Well, I got there one customer too late and had to get the bigger (but still the same price) cake instead. Why I like the brotchen is because you don't have to deal with cutting them. Why is this important? You will see in a second.

I got upstairs and found that I was early enough so that only the new students that we are getting this week and our teenager were the only ones there. And when I say new students, I mean two priests. Yes, two priests to match our two nuns. And two gays. As the class trickled in, I went to get some plates and a knife to cut the cake. The two gay boys came in, took one look at the new additions, and looked at me cutting the cake...then american gayboy sat down and motioned for me to pull up my shirt...because not only was I showing way too much, but the priests were also taking note. It was the longest cake cutting I've ever done. It was downhill from there.

I ended up sitting beside one of the priests and my stupid cleavage was an obvious distraction. He kept staring at me...and then at my belly...and then at my hand. I thought I must have had cake on it, until the break when italian gayboy pointed out that I must have looked like a hooker in his eyes because here I was, boobs hanging out, pregnant in a tight shirt, and no wedding ring.

The class seems to get a little wilder and more foul-mouthed when we get new holy people for some reason. Today, we talked about being a fotomodell (model) and our teacher talked about how in Germany, everyone thinks that Heidi Klum is the devil. And then italian gayboy was asked about his tattoos so he took off his shirt to show them off. I spit up my water on the floor when this happened because he's a big, hairy man, so him with the nun and priests in the background was worth a photo (it was way too obvious to take a photo today, so I'm waiting until tomorrow). A little teaser on some of the tattoos: a polkadot bow tie around his neck, a chain that "hangs" from his neck attached to sunglasses on his chest, across his abdomen is written SUPERSTAR with a rollerskate flanking each side, a pencil tattoo behind the right ear and my new favourite, on each of his fingers on his right hand a letter that together spells CAKE because he loves cake.

Because it was their first day, the priests didn't have their books yet, so american gayboy lent them his book and we shared mine...they not only forgot to say thank-you, but they accidentally took his book home. We joked about how it would be sprayed with holy water when gets it back. I tried to make some small talk before they left by asking where they were from. They were not very friendly. In fact, they were borderline rude to me, but when they said "Providence", italian gayboy shouted, "Oh I had an ex-boyfriend from Rhode Island! Providence boys are adventurous!!"

Needless to say, we all decided to go for lunch to debrief. The russian mafia boys, the gayboys, and me, the pregnant hooker (as italian gayboy called me after he saw me "seducing" the priest with my cleavage and belly).

Russian mafia boys:




Gayboys: