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Meanwhile, My female parental seems to be in a sole state of annoyance upon my clothing choice as it rarely coincides with summer weather and its prime. I experienced this force in its most charismatic temperament in the below photo shoot process in which her instinct to intervene and provide notably undesirable advice concerning the inappropriate nature of sweaters-in my defense they were heavily cropped–and pantaloons extending below the crease of my ass, as childishly inadequate and a daring disgrace to the short-lived temperance of Mother Nature as a deplorable force on the mitten shaped state.
We are all quite aware that mothers are generally quite difficult to reason with despite menopause or its biweekly converse, to which a witty reply was to supplemental aid in support of HER founding HER own motherchuking blog named something cliche yet vastly appropriate like "[insert mom-like name] Closet". In which case she could wear whatever the hell she wanted with out the key input of her trendy, youthful, socially apt, defiant and individualistic daughter.
Yes mother, I went there.
Also, I'm not even wearing a shirt; so please tell me how much more summertatsic can I get Mom, PLEASE.
Aca-scuse me for attempting to wearing a jacket over my bare stomach to relive some shame from my ancestors upon the sleazy appearance I may promote in its sly escape to reveal my barren shoulders. Or would you prefer your eldest child to allure her sole sibling to a life of street walking and depreciated self-worth?
Vintage skirt and jacket, ASOS espadrilles and American Apparel scrunchies.
You are soo welcome.
Just kidding I love you, Happy Mother's Day [embarrassed emoji]?
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