I pretty much never remember to check the back of what I’m wearing to make sure it looks OK. Sometimes it looks decidedly not-OK when I finally catch a glimpse in a reflective surface.
Every time I try to do a “smoky eye,” I end up with a “black eye.”
I am a self-proclaimed Champion of Color, but the vast majority of my wardrobe is black. Not just neutral, black.
If I see a trend that appeals to me, I typically track down the supplies to re-create it immediately. But it can take me six months or more to figure out how to deploy it in a way that aligns with my personal style.
Yep. You guessed it: Still hate Chanel.
I will never, ever have ladylike nails. When I try to grow them out or get a nice manicure, they become chipped, cracked, filthy, and disgraceful in a matter of hours. You’d think my job consisted of peeling labels off of jars and burying them in the dirt with my bare hands.
Cashmere makes me mildly horny.
I have three main bra styles: One for when I want my boobs to look big, one for medium, and one for small. Most days are medium days.
I am a lapsed knitter. My mom has tried to teach me to sew many times, and so has Trinknitty. I clearly have absolutely no desire to design or make my own garments from scratch.
I love plucking my eyebrows. LOVE.
I donate to the same thrift stores that I patronize. When browsing the racks, I inevitably gravitate toward items that I’ve donated. I never buy them again, but the cycle still cracks me up.
Care to confess anything?
Image via weheartit.