Who wore it best? Wait? Don't tell me? Because I have eyes that can see through my pale, pasty skin all the way to my warm blooded veins and devise what the correct answer is.
I swung by Sally Lapointe's trunk sale to see what a life wherein I wore blazers and owned fabrics a few notches better than "viscose blend" would be like, and wound up stuffing my rump into the same shorts a much more slender blogger brought to fame. Turns out everyone looking at your vagina isn't as fun of a game when it's not surrounded by two skinny ol' matchstick legs, but there's something sort of freeing about having your tush cheeks hang out in public.
Not pictured, though, is the freaking unbelievably lush purple dress I tried on that actually did make me look like an internet model. Hopefully, I'll be able to take about ten thousand selfies of myself in it if it makes its way into my closet.
But, until then, fly free, lil' cutlets! Be one with the wind! I'll just be here, enjoying this dark chocolate and sea salt granola bar masquerading itself as a healthy great instead of candy with a few protein bursts inside of. Everyone needs an excuse for why something won't zip. What's yours? — trademarking that for the next reverse psychology subway banner campaign. That second career in advertising is stating to sound puuuurdy appealing. Though, one in which I can parade around in shorts with my alabaster butt hanging out and write about it is a smidge more fun.