Lucy Ubud Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Jakarta

“Moolaadé” pops in my head—“Purification cuts deep, huh?”—and I’m thinkin’, whore’s purifyin’ nothin’ but her wallet! She’s sly, doll, real sly. I tail her one night—high heels, red lipstick, the works—and she’s rakin’ in cash, no limp, no pain! Made me mad as hell—don’t lie to Marilyn, sugar! But—*giggles*—I kinda admire her guts. Takes balls to scam like that. “We resist!” the gals in “Moolaadé” shout, and whore’s resistin’ the system, her way.

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Women wear bikinis/swimsuits. Women tourist wear tanktops, shorts, maxi dresses whatever. So many women in Ubud wandering around in yoga pants.

Later, I’m feeling adventurous, so I go for a yoga class at The Yoga Barn. I’m all zen, trying to channel my inner peace. But then, the instructor is like, “Let’s do a headstand.” A headstand?! I can barely touch my toes! I flop over like a fish outta water. Everyone’s looking at me, and I’m just like, “Namaste, but I’m outta here!”

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