Remember how I lamented my odd-shaped skull and how I can't seem to find any hats that fit? Well, for the past however-many months, my facial skin decided to go rogue. And by rogue I mean rebel. And by rebel I mean there's a redness problem. And by redness I mean blemishes. In any case, I made it my mission to find myself a brimmed hat to protect my face during the summer months. I found a paper straw number from J. Crew that was well within my moderate budget. And by moderate I mean fair. And by fair I mean small. And by small I mean inexpensive. And by that I mean under $20. I found that putting my hair in a bun and tucking it under the hat made it fit.
The hat also came in handy during the Florida vacation. I kept my skin protected with sunglasses that covered half my face and of course, the hat. This resulted in the most glamorous ombre' tan you have ever seen. Imagine: pale eye and cheek area, reddish jawline, somewhat tanned chest and shoulders, brown stomach, and boom! Burnt legs and ashy feet. Basically, if I were a jigsaw puzzle, I couldn't be put back together because the coloring doesn't match.
A while back, I tried a pair of harem pants which resulted in visions of loincloths and diapers. I wandered into a Gap store because I was waiting for something-or-the-other. Or maybe they had one of those additional 30% off things, who knows? My memory is foggy. In any case, I picked a slouchy pair of black pants off a rack. It spoke of promises like, no need to hold your gut, and, I will make your VPL worries disappear. So I tried it on. And I loved it. It sat low on my waist. I could tuck my shirt in. I could roll the cuff a bit and make it ankle-length.
So I head to the cashier and hand my purchase over. And guess what the cashier says? She opens her mouth and the words EVERYONE NEEDS A PAIR OF HAREM PANTS come out.
Oh shit.
The pants were kind of harem-ish. The crotch was a bit lower. The legs were kind of roomy. She really shut me up. I was so against the idea of harem pants I didn't even notice that I just tried a pair on and actually loved it.
I also started using hairspray. There I said it. If you ever ride the #28 in the morning and catch a whiff of fragrance-covered chemicals, that was me. Sorry, I have a problem controling the spray button thing. You want more confessions? I gave Insidious a second viewing and I don't want to look at reflective surfaces for now because I might see that old lady parasite with dead fingernails. Here's another one: I know someone who loves her chunky boots. And by chunky I mean Bride of Chucky/Herman Munster. I want to help her but there's no way I'm commenting on anyone's fashion choices to their face, especially since we're not that close. Instead I'll just judge her silently. Just kidding (but not really)! No really, I'm just kidding. It's Christmas - the season of giving. And I'm sure by giving, they didn't mean giving insults.
Last confession: I'm crazy about American Horror Story and I think I'm developing a highly inappropriate TV crush on Tate. I can't help it. I think it's because *SPOILER ALERT* he's dead.
