Bounce in my step, Spring in the air, and Definitely Feeling Me again
Nice. The dishes are done, the dog is walked, and I am taking 15 minutes to blog. I haven't written for a week. I kind of spent my days off laying on my side and watching bizarre shit on Netflix. Documentaries on horror films, indie films, old 80s horror, and documentaries on the post punk porn movement and pro sex feminist rebels. Like I said, weird shit. I've downed probably 4 bottles of red wine since Monday. I'm not sure how I feel about that. I didn't get sloppy, I was just enjoying a 2 glass minimum high in the evenings. I made dinner, I've worked out the past few days, I even did a hella big shopping trip Wednesday since I tore the ass out of one of my only two pair of jeans I have that fit right.
I hate shopping. When women refer to "retail therapy" I smile and nod thinking 'Freak.' They're what I call 'the converted'. They read 17 magazine at one time and actually believed that shit, they subscribe to US magazine, and they talk about Kim Kardashian like they knew the bitch in high school. As women, they've sold out, they've drunk the kool-aid and are slaves to Madison Ave. They lap up whatever shit that is sold to them, ultra conservatism, fundamental religion, sexual freedom, 50 shades of housewife porn, Iraq War, the Thunder Down Under guys are hot--anything that comes in pink and smells like cake and money. They buy it. No questions asked, just boundless high pitched enthusiasm.
I hate shopping. It's left over from being a fat girl in the 80s and only having lumberjack lesbian wear(husky boys style) or Mother of the Bride to choose from. Everything I tried on would look cheap and awful. I lived in the land of MuuMuu and I've been scarred ever since. I went to Target and cowgirled up. I made four trips with 6 items each. I almost cheesed out on the last three dresses, but the dressing room girl goaded me into not giving up. I'm glad. I ended up buying all three dresses at $9 each. I got two bras(which I wish I had got 38 DDD instead of 36DD. I need 36DDD. I should have just got the larger, and had the right cup size. My tits feel like they're Saran Wrapped to me. My poor nipples), a pair of dark blue jean capris, a pair of shoes, and four t-shirts. All on clearance. Hell yeah! I feel like I've smacked a T-Rex to death with my espadrille. Fashion victory, bitches!;)
I hate shopping. When women refer to "retail therapy" I smile and nod thinking 'Freak.' They're what I call 'the converted'. They read 17 magazine at one time and actually believed that shit, they subscribe to US magazine, and they talk about Kim Kardashian like they knew the bitch in high school. As women, they've sold out, they've drunk the kool-aid and are slaves to Madison Ave. They lap up whatever shit that is sold to them, ultra conservatism, fundamental religion, sexual freedom, 50 shades of housewife porn, Iraq War, the Thunder Down Under guys are hot--anything that comes in pink and smells like cake and money. They buy it. No questions asked, just boundless high pitched enthusiasm.
I hate shopping. It's left over from being a fat girl in the 80s and only having lumberjack lesbian wear(husky boys style) or Mother of the Bride to choose from. Everything I tried on would look cheap and awful. I lived in the land of MuuMuu and I've been scarred ever since. I went to Target and cowgirled up. I made four trips with 6 items each. I almost cheesed out on the last three dresses, but the dressing room girl goaded me into not giving up. I'm glad. I ended up buying all three dresses at $9 each. I got two bras(which I wish I had got 38 DDD instead of 36DD. I need 36DDD. I should have just got the larger, and had the right cup size. My tits feel like they're Saran Wrapped to me. My poor nipples), a pair of dark blue jean capris, a pair of shoes, and four t-shirts. All on clearance. Hell yeah! I feel like I've smacked a T-Rex to death with my espadrille. Fashion victory, bitches!;)
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