I am queen of the messy-don't-give-a-fuck hair....but I am also the queen of the overkill. I swear a deep adoration of red lipstick, fancy dresses and sky scraper high heels is programmed into my weird white girl soul, much to my friends dismay. I often find myself the butt of all the jokes, "Nice tutu," my friends often mutter as I prance around the streets in a petticoated, pink number. "Oh this must be your glass," they chuckle handing me my lipstick stained mug. I get weird glances wherever I go (again, noticed not by myself but always my friends) whether it be on the subway, on the street or my favourite dive bars (Who would have thought the girl in the ball gown loved Pickle chips so much!)
But you know what, I often find that a pretty dress makes for a better day.
"I thought of you when I was getting dressed this morning!" My Coworker commented this morning pointing at her maxi dress.
"RIGHT! Don't you feel like you just strut a little more?"
"YES!" She exclaimed....see! Someone gets it!
I don't care how many weird looks I get from strangers on the street, I'll be dressing up in hell.
Except on Mondays...I don't fuck with Mondays.
