But today I decided to go for a run outside instead of hopping on the ol' hamster wheel in the garage, and I also had to run (er, walk) some errands.
Going outside is ALWAYS A MISTAKE. First off, people. Secondly, the sun. It is literally trying to kill us. If it's not cancer, it's sunburns and wrinkles and splotches (and that's just rude). Thankfully I was covered in SPF 110, which is the closest thing my pasty ass has to a force field. And speaking of ass, I'm sure I had epic swamp ass after my venture outdoors. There's a good chance that my ass was actually trying to signal for help.
And people wonder why I don't want to hang out. Pfffft, hit me up in October, when going to the mailbox doesn't feel like I just carried a hobbit into Mordor.
The top is from Stitch Fix and is one of the items I purchased from the box when it was sent to me (this was prior to DYT, and I found that nearly everything I kept from Stitch Fix is Type 4). I find that I usually look and feel boring and frumpy if I don't incorporate SOME pattern SOMEWHERE in my outfit. And no, color-blocking is not a pattern.
The shorts are a coated denim (R13), and they're honestly a little bit shorter than I prefer to wear at my age but they're METALLIC. I am drawn like a toddler to the only-breakable-item-in-the-room when it comes to all things shiny. Or really, like a toddler to also all things shiny.
My carpal tunnel wrist brace totally counts as an accessory, right?
They were originally gold, but not real gold, they're a cheapie from some random subscription box. I went through a lot of fashion subscriptions while trying to figure out my style and what I was doing wrong. I decided to refashion these with a high-shine silver spray paint.
They're okay, but I'm not sure if I like the design of the earrings or not, regardless of the fact that the're now shiny silver. I don't know, I'm still on the fence about these.
My make-up was very very minimal because I knew I'd be dripping sweat. BB Cream, sunscreen, eyeliner, concealer, DONE. Like I want a full face of make-up dripping all over my wrinkley white blazer.
I am also still getting used to my haircut. Yes, I do in fact get my hair cut on occasion, I'm not Pentecostal (as evidenced by my metallic booty shorts bought straight out of Sodom and Gomorrah. Oh, the things my very conservative religious mother would say... "Oh, I see that Satan is your personal shopper now. Did you at least remember to sell your soul for a discount and free shipping?" "No, mom, I was too busy thinking about all the boners I should have taken into consideration before getting dressed.")
Anyway, my stylist cut my hair MUCH shorter than I instructed her to. Granted, the cut itself was very technically good, so I will give her another chance to do it but at the correct length. It's crazy that these photos were recent, but I can already tell that compared to the photos above, my hair has ALREADY GROWN LONGER. (Clearly this is also due to Satan. Apparently we're BFFs. WORTH IT, by the way.)
Heading off to be blasphemous now and shame the family honor, like I do... by which I mean faffing around on the internet until 2 in the morning in the sanctuary of my air-conditioned room while drinking tea (it's pretty much the same thing though). Take care!