This past week I was with my love out in Vegas for our yearly summer vacation! Our main objectives were to see shows, eat way too much food, and hopefully not totally waste our paychecks on all those bright movie-themed slots that we can’t seem to stop giving our money to, so we weren’t exactly planning a “Sin City” type of trip. However, during weekdays hotels on the Strip are actually pretty affordable, so we did go all out on one of those mini suites with the giant tub right in the middle of the room. Through the whole planning of this trip I was so excited to buy a bubble bomb at the Lush in front of our hotel so I could take some fancy-bitch bubble bath pictures, ya know, with a glass of champagne in my hand(except its secretly cider because my taste for alcohol is that of a high schooler), and my hair in a messy bun but in, like, a hot way. But then reality kicks in: it’s 2 am, and I just half nakedly slumped over the coffee table in my hotel room to inhale one of Guy Fieri’s bacon mac-and-cheese burgers, after a day full of half drunkenly dodging like a weird amount of children through the casino floors. This all meaning that the moment my fat ass hit those bubbles, and I could finally just relax in a nice warm bath, all the promises I made to myself to take this opportunity to further my social media content just melted away, and laying in the tub with my lil feets on the jets became top priority.