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What Not to Wear

I’ve heard there’s a TV show by this name, but considering that we haven’t had cable at my house since about 2009, I wouldn’t really know. What I do know, however, is that getting dressed is such a pain in the ass.

Poof, SoccerGirl, and I decided last week to go out to eat. Which was a great idea. So great, that we decided we should dress nicely and wear heels since we barely ever get to do that (Except for Poof because she’s a fashion blogger and stuff). But seriously. I’m always in scrubs.

I wanted some damn high heels on my feet.

At least, I did, until it came down to D-Day.

Poof texted me a number of times throughout the day asking what I was wearing.

My silence is due to me having no freakin' clue what to wear. Besides like, clothes.

My silence is due to me having no freakin’ clue what to wear. Besides like, clothes.

I tried to think of my closet and envision what I could wear, but then my head started to hurt because I hated everything single thing in it.

Poof: Did you decide what you’re wearing?

L.A.: No. I think I’m just going to go naked.

Poof: Just wear what you’re wearing now.More Questioning

L.A.: I’m literally in underwear. This isn’t even allowed in public.

Poof: I’m going to burn my whole closet.

L.A.: OH. I want to do that too.

Poof: Did you know you can burn Doritos as kindling? And it makes multi-colored fire?

L.A.: I have heard that. We should burn our clothes AND Doritos. It’ll be a big colorful fire.

Poof: Done.


Poof: But what are you going to wear tonight?

A timeline of my evening before going out.

6:21 pm: Get home from work. Acknowledge I will not wear scrubs to dinner. Take off scrubs.

6:23 pm: Glare at closet.

6:25 pm: Candy Crush marathon.

6:35 pm: Above conversation with Poof. More angry glaring at closet.

6:41 pm: Try on outfit 1.

6:43 pm: Outfit 2.

6:45 pm: Outfit 3.

6:52 pm: Outfits 6, 7, and 20394803948.

7:00 pm: Stare at floor in dismay.

Rejected Outfits

7:01 pm: Cry because I don’t know why I have so much laundry to do.

7:03 pm: Put on outfit. Hate it. Leave bedroom.

7:05 pm: Walk out door. Lock door. Realize I have no make up on and have not done hair.

7:05 and 30 seconds pm: Decide I’ve come too far.

7:10: Officially leave. Decide to later write blog. Decide to probably not do laundry.

L to R. Poof, SoccerGirl, L.A.

L to R. Poof, SoccerGirl, L.A.

7:30 pm: Don’t worry. We were both clothed and complete ladies in public.

10:21 pm: Mostly.

Oh, and fast forward a week. Repeat process.




Same story. Different event.




P.S. You can for real see exactly what Poof wore. Here it is.