I totally write stories that are too long. I get chatty. Then I get sidetracked and sail along on the other theme for awhile. Then drag myself back to the point, add five parenthetical phrases, get sidetracked again (thanks, ADHD), totally forget my original idea… Crap. I’m doing it again, aren’t I? I’ll try to keep it shorter. (Note, I just reread this post and edited it. I may sound like I’m going on too long again, but trust me, this paragraph was a LOT longer.)
Yesterday I had a plan: I would wear my new turquoise Converse kicks with cropped jeans and a favorite Free People oversized shirt — it’s a sort of pink-y blue corduroy, with a soft flounciness that I love. Hadn’t worn it in awhile. And I’ve shared my thoughts about weight gain right? (No, haven’t lost it yet.) So I put on my sneaks and jeans (not in that order) and a soft T-shirt and then I went to put on the Free People shirt and… I. Couldn’t. Get. It. On.