Machurity

Hey hey hey there. How ya doin'? Great, not that I care or anything, just wanna to carefully utalize this time to selfishly yet thoroughly explain to you what I'm wearing and why the hell catz I'm wearing it. Remember that poorly written, directed and executed sitcom? Oh Ashley Tisdale, how I long for a revitalization of your faint and decrepit acting talents. HSM: College Years, anyone?

If we're being honest here guys, I'm getting bored. In order, this claim providing for an answer to the before posed question concerning a benevolent force of reversely broadening brain cells being: Yes, but you bore yourself more than you us.

Truly, I appreciate the honesty in the face of my inclination towards more and more shorts and more and more tanks there of the popularized blank slate and perhaps transparent multiplicity as proposed by style mavens badgalriri and the Man Repeller on the opposite side of the spectrum.

But I refuse.

Give me clashing prints with dangerous resemblance of that toward a clown or give me death. Our style is said to elevate its premise as we age and thereby seek class, elegnace- SNL please-and simplicity. 

My response: WTF no.

If anything, in creeping nearer and nearer to Grandmotherly status, I become even more of "G" in recognizing "comfort as a state of mind" within the nature of my entrapment in my own gosh damned skin. 

Yes, I take note of trend but soley as an act to redefine and defy it in the most unconventional of manners.

 Look at me. I mean, hell, I'm only 15.