Las Vegas 2023, again?! 4

Having gotten a solid sleep in, and having to not worry about shaving every nook and cranny on my body, getting ready this time around took far less time. Or should have, but it somehow took even longer for me to get ready this time around. Somewhere in between being incredibly lazy, trying to figure out where to eat, checking in at work (bad Liz, no cookie) and figuring out what to wear, I wasted a lot of time.

I eventually settled on this gold sequin miniskirt that I absolutely adore, alongside this white ribbon tunic thing which I think is super cool. I got breakfast at this place called Alexxa’s, which is also attached to the hotel. It was ok. Their meat omelet was eh.

I hadn’t explored southwards from Paris yet – adjacent to the hotel was Planet Hollywood, so figured I would wander around there for a bit and check out “The Miracle Mile”. I did not know it was just a mall, so colour me somewhat disappointed for the lack of miracles.

That ended up being a pretty long walk. Longer than I was anticipating, and certainly the main contributing factor to my only blister (only one blister! Shocking, honestly, since my fitbit says I walked 8 miles on this trip. in heels. That’s ridiculous, and I refuse to believe it.)

I gently limped back to the hotel room for yet another round of pictures.

This picture would have been great if there wasn’t a lamp sticking out of my head. So it goes.

The attentive reader will notice that I’m wearing a different, much shorter wig, than yesterday. I had brought this wig with me on my last photoshoot adventure, and it didn’t really strike me as attractive. For whatever reason, I felt like it suited me much better this time around. Also, it was generally much easier to manage and I didn’t accidentally keep eating it. No joke, I had to suck some egg-yolk off the ends of the longer wig at breakfast the day before. Kind of gross.

We’re slap-bang in photoshoot mode again, and there’s still the other fancy bodysuit I hadn’t taken pictures of yet. It was officially time. Be warned, the dreaded nipple might make an appearance again.

The trouble with this bodysuit, as much as I love it, is that I had to readjust it over and over again, lest Señor Nurpenstein and his wife… La Señora… make an unfriendly appearance. There’s a hint of them and their shiny heads, let’s leave it at that and head to the bathroom

I know I know! I’ll take some photos in the bathtub! That’ll be sexy!

You know what’s not sexy? Sitting on a towel in a cold bathtub, trying to figure out how the fuck to hoist yourself out of it every couple of minutes to adjust the camera angle, or try a different lens, or scoot weirdly into a new position. I’m not saying I wouldn’t do this again, but holy crap, this was not fun in the moment.

How do bodysuits fit you? Are they comfortable? No. No they are not. Here’s a candid moment of adjustment.

Proper wedge. Herr Ballsack was uncomfortable, and eager for air. It was like carrying around an extroverted tumour.