Saturday, Dec. 22, 2001 - 1:41 p.m.
"Quick, someone, call the Girl Police and file a report ..."

The shoelace on my boots just broke. I've never had to buy new shoelaces before. I actually considered just going and buying new shoes to save me the bother of re-lacing mine. My god ... what does that say about me?

I've worn these Docs far too long anyway ... maybe I'll get new shoes or boots after all. I think I could afford that ... maybe.

I haven't bought new clothes in ages. My jeans are all wearing thin, my socks have holes in them (I keep forgetting this because I never wear socks when I'm sitting around at home ... then I remember when I have to put some on to go out. D'oh.), my tops are all linty-looking and faded from the wash, my bras are hanging by a thread and don't match my underwear (too much information?), my fingernails are all busted from work, my hair is full of split ends and hangs in my eyes, and I've got a good inch of roots that are a different shade of red than the rest of my hair.

All in all, I'm bad at being a girl lately.

*Sigh*

Ah well. At least I haven't stopped shaving my legs ... (I was about to add the word "yet" to that sentence, but then realized that I'd never have the will power or the stomach to leave my legs unshaven for more than a few days ... just wouldn't be me).

So I'm going to buy some new clothes today ... if I can manage to squirm my way through the mobs of Christmas shoppers. And maybe I'll fix my nails, too. I don't like to let myself go, damnit ...

*Waits for the feminists to violently assault her.*

Anyway, I'd best be on my way now. Have a good weekend ... or something. More diary stuff later today. Or tomorrow, perhaps.


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� Ripe Tomato 2001-2005
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