I have new jeans, and let me tell you, they are MAGIC JEANS. Although I was hardly cursed by my gene pool, I was given a pair of legs which have become a bit of a family joke. I got huge thighs and calves from my Dad's side of the family, and the short, bandy legs of my Ma's family.
"Climber's legs, Bridget."
However, I'm now the ecstatic owner of a pair of magic jeans from River Island. They're patterned, high-waisted and skinny, and I thought they'd make my legs look even more like chicken drumsticks than usual. I was honestly planning on trying them on, and then sending them back. But somehow, these jeans defy all laws of physics and actually make my legs look longer, and if not actually slender, then at least quite a lot less like Richmond Sausages.
I am never taking these jeans off. They're comfy, flattering, and make me look like a Ming Vase. And everyone wants to look like a Ming Vase, right?
Sorry for the awkward photo. I can't actually look directly at the camera as I tried to cut my own fringe (again) and it didn't go so well (again). I'm going to have to beg a flatmate to sort it out later.
|Earrings and Turquoise Necklace - Urban Outfitters; Silver Necklaces - Gifts; Cardigan - H&M; Vest Top - Topshop; Jeans - River Island; Shoes - French Sole|
So tonight I'm leaving my coven (as my flat is delightfully referred to by my male friends) and seeing the Boy I kind of fancy... Last night was, predictably, a flurry of outfit-testing for my amused flatmate, and her bemused boyfriend. I'm going with this outfit, despite the fact that R (flatmate's boyfriend) told me in no uncertain terms that cardigans are passion killers and my pink shoes are weird; for I have come to the conclusion that I don't really care what boys think about my clothes - I think it's infinitely more flattering for a girl to appreciate your outfit than a boy. I think that there are some girls who dress for boys, and some who dress for girls. I know which camp I'm in... What about you?
Besides, if the boy doesn't like my clothes, then I'll just have to win him over with my mind (by this I mean with charm and humour etc, not mind control. Although that would probably be easier.).
My game plan is to not stroke his face/tell him how beautiful I think he is/do anything else massively dorky. Basically, I will suppress every instinct, and try and act like a normal person. And pray he never reads this. Because THAT would be cringe.
I'll let you to what extent I humiliate myself tomorrow.