The Price One Pays For Being A Cow.

I cannot find a frickin' formal dress for the life of me. Honestly. It could be in my size (I mean, God forbid I actually go to a store--oh no! Wouldn't wanna inconvenience anybody!), but cost 300 dollars more than I want to make my parents spend. Or it can be cheap, but way not my size. Because I am a procrastinating hog with a 46-and-a-half inch waist that will inevitably end up feeling dumpy next to everyone else even though I put in way more work to what I look like and actually like fashion but always am a fraud!

You know why I cannot fully embrace my inner fashionista? Because I am curvy. I have hips! And fat arms! And disgusting varicose veins on my feet! And I look like a frog from the side! So I work to hide the belly fat and redness and ginormous thighs and that's why! I'm not unfashionable by any means. I'm just not as out-there as I'd like to be.

And oh, the shoe issue. I have size 12 feet. That kinda cuts down on my consumption of Ralph Lauren and the like. That and the lack of money.

My Wish List.

(if I could have 2 out of the 4 I'd be happy)

1. A boyfriend. Or no---better: a husband. That's much more committed.
2. Beauty. I am beautiful if you look at me the right way. (Like, not from the side.)
3. A normal-sized body. That'd be flipping fantastic.
4. Two happy, in-love parents.

Like I said. Give me two.