Epic fail | The Fashion Dungjen

I am a failure, a quitter. A no good, dirty rotten, punk-faced weasel.

I am a grouch.

I haven't slept more than 4 hours any day this week and it has definitely been noticeable. I've tried to do this whole, 'let people dress me thing,' but, instead of letting people rummage through my closet, I'd rather punch them all in the face.

I woke up this morning with the best intentions, to put on exactly what Jillian picked out the night before. And, I did. I got up, got dressed with my arranged ensemble, and wanted to scream in frustration. Normally, I'm all for dress up, but with a lack of sleep replaced by insurmountable volumes of bitch I ripped the clothes from my body and went with something a little more Taylor.

It's not that what Jillian picked out was awful - although we did decide I would have looked like a grandma - but I just own things I'm not comfortable in, things that don't fit that well. Having people pick out my clothes is a pain in the ass. I didn't plan this very well. None of the original people have actually bothered to follow through with their zeal of dressing me. (Jillian's outfit of choice, if you're curious, consisted of a purple plaid shirt, a purple cardigan, dark-wash flare jeans, blue flats - which I still wore - and a cameo and a pseudo pearl necklace.)

So, what I plan to do for the rest of the week and the coming weekend is to get some stinking sleep. I'll let some of my freakish friends dress me next week and maybe, just maybe, I'll check the 'tude at the closet door.