I don't feel like being cool.
And some days, I feel like being cool, but I just can't find the energy.
Take Saturday, for example, when knew I wanted to hit the farmer's market in the AM , but I also knew that I didn't feel like wearing real clothes.
WHAT? Miss an opportunity to gain attention through my questionable sartorial decisions?
Yes. Most definitely.
Because when it comes to long walks and frigid temps, those cute pair of fall booties are fun for a whole 3 minutes - until the nearest thrift store gets 15 of my hard-earned dollars and I get a new pair of I'll-pretend-these-are-real-leather-for-my-own-sanity's-sake-unstylish-by-even-my-standards slip ons.
So even though I wanted to be the chic supa fly girl who "just can't seem to fit into" her midwestern hometown
- this time, I decided to opt for comfort over cool.
And then I bought the weirdest hat ever.
No, seriously. I have no idea what happened. It may have been the undeniable allure of anything labelled "$5 bin", or the branches-which-later-morphed-into-antlers (??) printed across the fabric, but something about this uncharacteristically bright skull cap suddenly appealed to my strange aesthetic, and I snatched (read: gently plucked and paid for) the hat to wear home.
I am becoming that which I mock.
The midwestern hick within is taking shape in the form hunting-inspired accessories and a northern accent that I just can't seem to quit.
ooo hay der .
buh bye fer now