It isn’t her weight. That doesn’t bother me. I honestly don’t judge her based on that. (I am working on weightloss again, please stay tuned for those updates).
It’s her style. The woman I am isn’t the girl who wears t-shirts. The one who flew upstairs and traded her Hotel polo shirt for a t-shirt two days in a row. They were both mostly forgiven, since one was a Harry t-shirt and the I the sports skulls and the holes of a vampire bite. But that isn’t what my head believes I should be wearing.
Oh how I wish I had the budget. I used to say my true sense of style was very Avril Levine. If I was a touch younger I could probably get away with it. But at the ancient age of 36 almost 37…I’m changing a little.
I love sun dresses. They hate my body. I look pregnant. And my boobs are no help. I have this one dress that I adore and wish I had it in 10 different colors.
I finally bought a pair of artfully ripped jeans. Issue being that I pick at the holes. Eventually they will be unwearable. Oops.
I am lusting after this beautiful dress I found on pinupgirlclothing.com. I just am not the kind of girl who spends over $100 on one dress.
I love shirts that fall off my shoulder. I love skirts that are just the right length.
I also love clothes that I’m not afraid to wipe my nephew’s nose on. There is a fuzzy line there. To wipe or not to wipe.
I’m changing. A lot. I wipe noses with my shirt. I kill spiders with my bare hands. I talk to strangers. I plan hikes to haunted places. I buy workout equipment. I get freaked out by a girl who flirts with me because I want no part of being flirted with even though she is kinda my type. I would rather be alone.
I’m not sure why this is happening. I’m not even sure if I like it or not yet. But I accept it. I do like that even with so much falling to shit around me, I’m still kinda strong. I do like that I have come to realize that the only people who can hurt me are the ones I have given the power to do so.
I am me. No one has the right to change that. Not even the girl in the mirror who is wearing a ratty t-shirt.
Life throws some serious curveballs. It’s up to you to catch them or dodge them.
I ovulate around July 10. I’m going to catch that curveball. Even if it is the scariest stupidest thing I ever do.