But February is a good/interesting month. Tis the month many of my family members were born, including little ole me. Which is why I shouldn't stress over all the clothes I bought today (so many PANTS! I will never be pantsless again) and that I shelled out money on two new pairs of boots (of doooom, they're like, over three inches high so I am approx. eleventy billion feet tall) earlier this week.
But breaking in teh boots of doooom is not fun, considering I'm doing it at work where half the time I'm in the creepy basement moving heavy boxes around. And why am I doing that? Because no one else will and one day I'm going to have to organize a better filing system. Cuz...seriously. It is maddening down there and it doesn't help that since I've read The Zombie Survival Guide, I'm worrying about a stray zombie lumbering out at some dark corner and killing me. A ream of paper to the head just isn't an effective weapon.
And if you're wondering why I'm wearing hella high heels it is because work is like a friggin' fashion show and I'm the lowly janitor assigned to cleanup at the runway. I have no fashion sense because I can't have the options that others have. Like...I'm tall and I'm overweight (my fault), but even at my best weight, I still didn't have a lot of choice. Also the people that select the clothes for Lane Bryant suck. There are these perfectly lovely blouses that I would have bought if some sadist hadn't cut the fabric down the MIDDLE of the front of the shirt, so hello, your STOMACH is exposed. Sure, if you're wearing a cami, that isn't so bad, but if I'm wearing that many layers (jacket, blouse, cami), I would DIE because my office is hot.
Who seriously keeps on selling clothes with deep gashes down the middle of the shirt or the crazy low cut blouses that have to be tied around and around and don't actually cover your boobtacular area unless you like fucking pin the blouse the fuck down?
And ribbons and bows right in front of your titties? Way to be klassy.
Here's the thing: I'm not showing off my boobs or stomach at work. I'm just not. I'm not going to be wearing three or four layers of sheer overly dressy crap when I could wear a simple blouse that is pretty AND elegant. And I'm not going to wear a fucking cami because I slouch a bit and the cami slouches right the fuck down with me.
In short? I hate shopping.
And this is my fashionista post.