I'm sitting in a heap of shoes and a few dresses scattered around my room because I don't know what to wear to an event tomorrow. The heap of shoes are a combination of pumps and sandals and this is the reason why my stress levels are sky high. Not a pair of heels in sight. It's time I accepted that I'm not 12 anymore. In fact... Agh let's leave it.
I'm not too sure what the dress code is and I've been told by one person that it is "formal but not too formal" and by another that it's "smart". All I gathered from these two is that I can't wear my jeans and All Star. Sigh.
I don't know what to wear!
This is the worst struggle ever because I'll probably try on a lot of different things and tomorrow morning end up feeling like wearing pants I haven't seen in over half a year. And your mind will do that to you ne, while you are running late even. Then I'll find them and the zipper will get stuck because I've gained weight.
Because Murphy's.
I need to be up in less than six hours but here I am in pantihose and a mirror I'm glad can't speak. Hahaha.
After a few hours of pondering and booty hopping to songs I'd hate to get stuck in my head with elders listening, I've chosen a dress and shoes. The dress had passed the bum and boob test, but my shoe game is wack. The only thing I may change is the way I tie my hair in the morning.
You know what will really suck? If I don't even look like I went through all this trouble in the morning.
Oh forget this, there's more to life than whipping up perfect outfits and matching earrings. Things like sleep.
I'd told myself I need to quit turning this blog into a diary, but I think I was lying to myself.
Goodnight.
Only because it's what I'm playing now:
Party- Beyoncé ft. Andre 3000
Ntsa
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