I'm not a whore, I'm a snuggler

Awhile back, I told Devon that to prevent a lengthy gap in my resume, I could be a hooker. Not a crocheter, like in this blog, but an actual prostitute. I could set my own hours and make a little cash on the side. He was all, "No, you're not going to be a prostitute," because he thinks he owns me or something. Just another case of The Man telling a woman her place in the world, I guess. I don't know why he has a problem with me living my dreams. Like, I could even get my name on Craig's List. But then I saw The Snuggery. At first I thought it was the factory where they make Snuggies, and I was like, "Why would anyone give a fuck about this?" But then I realized what was going on, and I saw the potential. And the dollar signs. But mostly the potential, because I have a forward-thinking entrepreneurial spirit. I could totally be a snuggler!

I'm looking at the benefits. Despite my desire to rebel against Devon's totalitarian judgment on what I can do with my vagina, I know that for a while after the baby's born, no one's going near my vajayjay anyway, and I mean no one. But snuggling is vagina-free, and it's legal, so I won't end up spending the night sharing a toilet with a meth whore named Candy.

From the pic on the website, it looks like I also get to wear a long, flowing Ren Faire skirt to work, which is a bonus.

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