Wednesday, April 25, 2012
Sometimes, you just have to let someone else do it for you.
Jacket: Urban Outfitters (years and years ago)
Skirt: Forever 21
Belt: Forever 21
I caught the bubonic plague last week. It was something medieval, like black death, that took me down for the count. I attempted to be a tough guy and go to work through all the ick. Standing in front of my closet, staring sadly into the hangers, I must have been pathetic enough of a sight for my husband to intervene. He took the two items I had in my hand (skirt and blouse), ironed them, and dressed me up. When I hit the coat closet with a blank expression, he sighed and said, "Here. Denim. Go." All together, I thought I looked pretty sharp, despite feeling like my skin and stomach were crawling with bugs. I complemented him on treating me like his own personal paper doll. Since I was all dolled up, I demanded he snap photos, then said, "OK, I'm done," after he took two.
I was back in bed by noon. I am really horrible at faking my way through things.