Tomboy

Each season, I start off with the best of intentions. I promise that I’ll dress like more of a grown up.  Tim Gunn would positively die if he looked at my weekend wardrobe.  This past weekend, I took the girl child trick or treating.  I was wearing a hoodie, a t shirt, some ripped up jeans and a pair of Vans.  I don’t even dress like a soccer mom; I’m more 13 year old boy.  It doesn’t bother me.

Until I want to go somewhere with one of my girlfriends, and I look like an adolescent.

I always joke about having the right equipment, but dangling all the wrong bait.  I swear I clean up nice, and definitely know how to “put on the dog.”  I just don’t most times.  Frankly, I think I’m bare bones cute.  I think my casual mystique is appealing.  I like my face.

That being said, sometimes I feel as though I need to look like a grown up.  So at the beginning of every season, I show a little cleave, perhaps buy a girdle, buy a sexy pair of shoes that won’t hurt my big toe (I need to get better about taking care of myself).  I’ll wear them twice. So this winter, I’m trying my hardest not to buy a pair of jeans or a t-shirt (despite the fact that Madonna Junk Food T-shirt is so completely awesome, and I need new David Bowie AND Jimi Hendrixx tees).  I’m getting grown up clothing, dresses and *gasp* tights.  I don’t know how it will turn out this season, but hell, at least I get an A for effort right?

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