whut is fashun?
we ask the question, most important to our existence: "whut is fashun?".
this is most definitely fashun.
those are some awesome fucking camper shoes that i found at the ukay ukay (second hand store) in mint condition.
I rolled out of bed, passed by the mirror and this is what I saw.
See what I have to work with?
This is what I wear a lot to work. Plain shirt, work jeans, flats and a messy bun. Today I spiced it up with a designer *coughcough* oversized bag. “For Fashion?” you ask youself.
And then I show you the medicine and YA literature I keep inside. I just needed a place to keep it all.
#fashun
What is sockz?
On my way to church with a frilly dress and chipped polish, my own way of testing the theory that God takes us just the way we are. #fashun
Risha’s pursed lips indicate her curiosity over this instrument of torture.
“What is it?”, she wonders, “and why does it come free with my bottle of mascara?”
Please note, she is not (as it may appear) preparing to snog said instrument.
You know what sucks? Greasy hair.
You know what sucks more? Having to wake up early enough to take a shower.
Eff that ish.
Love, Sara
Y’know what I hate? I mean, really super-duper hate hate?
Those damn sweatpants with the words across the ass. I mean, odds are, boys are looking there anyway. No need to dress up your derriere. No need to put what is, essentially, a flashing neon sign on your buttocks.
Nope.
An understated bum is something that I can appreciate now-a-days. Even welcome. Pease. Free the bums. Free them from the propaganda that the media tells you you need, free them from overpriced pants that were, originally, meant to be used - not abused. Once upon a time, they were meant for activity. Not advertisement.
I miss those simple days, with their simple bums.
Bring back the simple bums.
This is how I dress for work.
Silly t-shirt, old/faded cargoes, hideous purple crocs.
My hair is in a pony tail that’s much too high to stay up. I didn’t brush my hair this morning and my hair’s slightly greasy. Hot.
My toenails are chipped. That is a scar on my foot.
Nothing matches.
I’d blame the flash for my shiny, but we all know I’m lying.
I ask you, “is this fashun?”
x risha.
