Why do I do this to myself? As if packing away all of Maclane's 3-6, 6 and 9 month clothing wasn't enough, I had to go and strip him down to his diaper, throw him in a gorgeous red vintage suitcase and listen to my screaming ovaries compete with the sound of my shuttering camera.
College hot. College hot. College hot. Nobody wants to drink virgin cocktails on their 30th birthday. You do not want to be pregnant in Turks and Caicos. College hot.
Excuse me while I just mutter this to myself repeatedly between now and the end of October. Shut up, ovaries!