I had a major breakthrough in therapy a few weeks ago.
I know, that’s the biggest red flag for “EXTREMELY PERSONAL AND YET SOMEHOW SIMULTANEOUSLY BORING SHIT AHEAD! ABORT! DO NOT READ!” Read on, and I swear I will not talk about my subconscious, a dream journal, or how my dog never really loved me. (For the record, Barty-Bart the wonder dog was full of love for everyone, and don’t you dare say otherwise)
I realized that I’m not wacky enough.
No, seriously! I was legit crying!!
Stop laughing at me! It’s not funny you guys!
Okay fine, have a laugh at the expense of my journey to self-realization. I’ll wait!
Got that out of your system? Good.
So as I was saying, I realized that I’m not wacky enough, that I’ve let that insidious thing called “societal norms” creep into my life, and now I wear dignified black clothes and try not to over-decorate my house with clashing patterns. Screw that noise! There’s a direct correlation between how much I care what other people think, and how happy I am, and dammit, I’d like to be happy!
So my first step is important. It’s daring. It’s bold. I want to dress like a kid.
See, I go through the world glaring at small children in tutus, or light up ninja turtle shoes, or muddy tiaras, because I’m so deeply jealous. I pine for my old fuschia shoes (if you’re reading Mom, you know the ones I mean), and I’m pretty sure that rainbows never go out of style. So why don’t I do something about it already?!
Hence, submitted for your consideration, here’s some cool shit that would bring my wardrobe just a little closer to my dreams:
This kicky little number would be perfect for anything from running errands to parent teacher conferences, all while saying, “Dude, don’t even try to judge, you know you wish you could be covered in sequins too.”
One of my most treasured possessions when I was 5 was a super cool elastic rainbow belt with a shiny enamel heart buckle. It broke my heart the day I realized I couldn’t fit it anymore. Apparently, Gucci has my back. My only complaint: the tiger doesn’t open to reveal a secret compartment for storing poison or candy or something, because really, who needs a watch these days?
If you don’t want to be a ballet dancer… well, I can’t blame you. That actually sounds like a grueling, terrible life, full of mangled feet and abandoned dreams. But gold dancing shoes still sound like a great idea!
You know what’s cool? Space. You know what’s not cool? People who don’t think space is cool. Ipso facto, I would be the coolest.
It’s probably here that I should mention I have no idea what “ipso facto” means. Or even if I spelled it right.
I DARE YOU TO LOOK ME IN THE EYE AND TELL ME I WOULD NOT BE MORE BADASS WHILE WEARING THIS.
I think the stripes are going that direction to make your legs look longer or something? All I know is even at 6 I would have known that you need to wear some sort of tunic/dress/shorts/baggy sweatshirt so that yellow patch doesn’t make it look like you peed yourself.
Otherwise, these leggings are pure gold, and they look comfortable as shit!
I actually own some covered-in-gold-glitter shoes, and I’m here to tell you they go with every outfit.
GIVE IT TO ME, GIVE IT TO ME RIGHT NOW.
Basically, what I’m saying is that I’m on the lookout for things that make me happy. And, as it turns out, those things haven’t really changed all that much since I was in 2nd grade.
Because of course they haven’t.
[Ed. Note: I have the super-flu, so if any of my weird ramblings come off as extra-strange… yeah, okay, it’s probably not the flu, but there might be some extra typos I’m too tired to search out.]