First--I went through a "Spice Girls" phase. Horrible, yes, I know. Grit your teeth and try to get through this.

I wore the gawdawful vinyl miniskirts and Fugly mid-ninties tops with ginormous platform heels All.The.Time.

Then I was in I Don't Care mode. Go to school in your pajamas? Even if you are supposed to wear a uniform? Fine. Whatever. Only have a pair of jeans that you've worn for five days in a row and they've developed a scent that could possibly bring about the nuclear holocaust? Whatever!!

I didn't make many new friends during that phase.

Then there was Preppy. The cheerleading outfits and ribbons and all that happy shit. Usually involved lots of Bouncing hair, lots of lipliner, and saying things like, "Want to come over to play tennis on Saturday?"

And then I went through a thankfully brief "rocker" episode that I'm trying to forget. It involved Disney World and me wearing lots of eyeliner. And lots of leather pants. It was not pretty.

And yet all these styles have evolved to form a higher level of fashion sense, one that is exquisite and refined, like someone who can tell butter from I Can't Believe It's Not Butter, and I who ahev persevered through these hard times should become the new 21st century fashion ICON!

And yet, when I look in my closet, I say to myself: "I have nothing to wear."

Such as tonight. I am going to a Very Fancy Ooh La La dinner tonight and must look exceptional and sophisticated. But all I end up doing is borrowing different "looks" from my past. I try to combine them, but it doesn't work. I think I may have a mental block or something.

Can someone please tell me why I should nothing to wear after fourteen years of polyester accumulation at TWO households?! Beat me over the head until I understand!!

I sucked it up and went all flower-y. Still somewhat sophisticated (accentuated in the sleeveless lawyer-ish beige top), but involves wearing an anklet. Ggrrr. I hate myself. Dinner with that New Orleans Bar Association should never in a million years be this stressful. Lawyers probably hire people to pick out their clothes for them, anyway.

"Oh Sally! I have a formal dinner tonight that I have to look good for! Now be a good little girl and rush on up here and pick out a matching tie and shoes and then you'll get your dinner, eh? You're having IAMS tonight! Mmm!"

"grumble, grumble, why do i not just kill the man in his sleep, shuffle grumble shuffle"

Heh! Would you look at that! It's the delirium showing! Remind me to stuff my delirium in a box under my bed before I leave. Thanks.

You know, for all the shit I put up with on a daily basis, I think myself to still be a pretty nice person. Except in court. Then I lash out like a rabid bitch. But any other times, you know...

Right. So I'm trying to stop hyperventilating over my clothes and think about more important things that I should be concentrating on, like world hunger and curing AIDS.

Yeah. Like that's going to happen anytime soon. That's almost as nutty as, like...our stupid-ass retard cowboy President sobering up and stoping the war or something!

Ha....ha.

I think my style is slowly morphing into "hippie."

God save us all.

© alexa

The counter keeps breaking and pissing me off, so NO MORE COUNTER! Mwahaha!