This is the lip color I will wear to feast on the flesh of people who feel the need to say, unprompted, “You look better without makeup.”
Well I might be in a huge amount of fibro pain but at least I forgot to condition my straw like hair and don’t have the energy to apply makeup. 🎉
Things in my purse: clutch, bag of makeup, Little Mermaid pocket mirror, loose tenner, and half an O of medical marijuana. Also my purse is just a sack covered in ugly pictures of cherries. Don’t ever let anybody tell you something is not a purse. Make everything a purse.
I ordered a pair of polka dot leggings and they came with a hole in the thigh. When I called to explain they were like “oh, sorry! We will send you more!” And they didn’t make me return the first ones like some companies do.
So now I’m just wearing leggings with a hole in them because somebody gave me free leggings and it’s oddly freeing. “I can do anything! I’m as free as my leggings! Who cares if I ruin them! Let’s go skydiving! Wait no not skydiving I regret saying that. Pizza. Let’s go get pizza.”
"This is my purse. This is not your purse."
I find this rabbit oddly inspiring.
When life gives you a challenge, you IGNORE that challenge and hop through it.
Sometimes, when all is right with the world and I am tucked into my cozy bed early, my brain will wake me up several hours later in a blind panic, convinced I’ve been spelling people’s names wrong for years and they are too polite to tell me.
Today, my mother told me that she thought I might still need medication, but that therapy and stuff shouldn’t be necessary if I pick a verse from the bible and repeat it to myself constantly.
This was after she told me that she regretted making me an only child because it seemed to have “messed me up” but before she gave me a ten minute stump speech for Christianity by telling me that any day god was going to reign down destruction and destroy the earth (spoiler: god will then rebuild heaven and earth — if you need further details, I can probably hook you up with a mentally ill street preacher) and that she cannot get me into heaven with her because I have to get right with god myself.
Honestly, my mom semi-regularly hassles me for being an only child (what the fuck) and tells me to rely more on the bible and less on modern medicine a couple times a year, so that’s not too surprising. I haven’t gotten her full blown hellfire and brimstone conversion speech in a few years, and those have been some pretty important years because instead of being nervous and guilty when she said this shit, I became royally pissed off. My mother sounds like a person who needs a couple of my antipsychotics to take the edge off and she thinks that threatening her own child with hell will, what, finally quell undesirable behavior (lovingly called my entire fucking personality) that I’ve exhibited my whole life?
Yeah, I’m going to suddenly rethink my entire adult life and go back to a religion that, thanks to her and her terrible choices, made me feel like a huge pile of shit during my childhood. That’s going to happen, mom.
Instead, I gritted my teeth and cheerfully told her that I’m glad she felt comfortable sharing her point of view with me and oh, did she know if she and my father are traveling to see us during the holidays?
Apparently I only own four orange eyeshadows so I’m wearing all of them.