You know that moment?
The one that comes when you are trying desperately to be professional?
To pass for a calm, cool, collected businessperson? Perhaps while you’re at a bank, finishing a nearing six-figure aircraft deal, providing closing instructions to a banker on behalf of your client?
And then the wild duckling that you have hidden in your cleavage starts peeping?
Don’t you just hate that? Continue reading “The one about the duckling I hid in my cleavage.”
Almost Farmgirl 