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I am twenty seven years old today.
More than a quarter of a century, more than halfway to thirty.
I can hardly believe it.
Birthdays are always a day to step back & think about life. Okay, fine, & also about having a good glass of wine & a little bit of fun. My 26th year was not my favorite. It was not my easiest year, nor my best year, & while I know there are moments I’ll look back on happily, I am definitely ready to say goodbye. I have a penchant for (read: obsession with) odd numbers, so turning 27 seems extra good. I know, I know: I AM CRAZY.
The upside of having a rough year means that you learn & grow a lot. This year was no exception. I learned about how strong my family is, about how much love exists in my life, thanks to those people. I was reminded of how much we support & love one another, as we saw one another through one of the darkest times in our family history. This year, I lost some friendships, gained some new friendships from the most unexpected sources, & reconnected with friends I’d missed so much. I learned about love. I was reminded of my own strength. I wrote more than I ever have, & learned how much I want that to be part of my life. I had experiences that I’ll never forget, laughed a lot, cried some & grew & changed.
It was a year.
This year, I’m planning on more laughing & less crying, on more experiences that make me feel alive, on growing & being a better version of me.
Here’s your part: Stealing from the lovely Wishcake, I’d like to have a Delurking Post. That means…whether you read everyday & leave lovely comments, or you read but don’t comment, or you’re here for the first time, PLEASE leave me a comment. Say hi. Need some convicing?
LEAVE ME A COMMENT. DON’T SAY NO TO THE BIRTHDAY MULLET:
I am so glad I went.
There were a million reasons why Coachella wasn’t a good idea. I had been sick for 10 days. I shouldn’t be spending money when my job is uncertain. I had to leave late Thursday night, after Parent Night, meaning a long drive down California in the middle of the night, when I was already tired. Still, somehow, deep inside, I had an inkling that going was just what the doctor ordered.
As we set out down the road, late Thursday night, with the music loud & the stars shining above, I knew that I’d made the right choice. Sure, driving through the night when you’ve been awake since 5 am, & worked a 12 hour day seems kind of ridiculous, but I managed to stay awake the whole trip & watching the sun rise over the desert was gorgeous. I spent the car ride & trip with my old friend, Brian, my original partner in Coachella crime back in 2008. The conversation in the car ranged from silly to serious back again — the sort of conversations you can only have at 5 AM when you’re exhausted & trapped in a car. It was a great start to the trip.
We made it to Indio & set up camp with visions of a mid-morning nap dancing in our heads. Instead, it was hot as hell & the people next to us were blaring Howard Stern & then moved on to horrible 70′s rock & the kids who’d been up all night were running around camp like whoa. Instead, we got dressed for the day & headed into the festival to grab a spot on the grass for a nap in the shade before shows began.
Resting under the shade of a tent in the Do Lab, an art installation + DJ dance area
The day started with a mellow performance by Jets Overhead, a band I’d only heard a smattering of before leaving. They were chill, but very talented & the lead singer was incredibly happy. After a mellow morning, the rapper P.O.S. kicked things up a notch with some sarcastic lyrics & amazing beats — it was the shot of energy needed to get things really started. As Tall As Lions played next, & their set was okay, but didn’t warrant watching the whole thing. I’d had a sneaking suspicion that they might be better in studio than they were live, & yeah, I was right. Instead, we high-tailed it over the the Avett Brothers, who for me, played a flawless set, full of my favorites: January Wedding, Head Full Of Doubt/Road Full of Promise & I And Love And You. It was a soulful set, full of a lot of emotion for me, & by far, one of the best shows I’ve seen in a long time. After that set, it was back to the dance tent for Proxy, who was mind-blowingly awesome. The set was full of energy & cutting loose in the dance tent is always a good time. She & Him was up next & their set was adorable. Or at least Zooey Deschanel was. Next, back to the dance tent! Wolfgang Garter & Pretty Lights did two awesome sets, leading to three hours of dancing. After dinner, it was time for Imogen Heap, one of the most insanely talented people I’ve ever seen perform, ever. She does all of her own tracks, meaning that if she’s performing something with a drum riff in the background, she plays it first & records it using a leaper so you can hear it in the track. Her sound team was absolute crap, but she was still AMAZING. Her voice was incredible & she is seriously so cute.
Imogen!
After Imogen, we caught a few minutes of Benny Benassi, before moving on to the next one: Jay-Z. Jay-Z absolutely killed it, going through almost his entire catalogue of hits, getting the entire crowd to bounce with him & bringing out Beyonce to finish the set with Forever Young, before closing it with Encore.
We made it back to camp, & I slept so hard. I had been up for 44 hours straight, save for a little nap, & had no problem sleeping through the partiers around me. It was sweet, sweet sleep.
On Saturday, we sort of napped while watching John Waters (yes, the filmmaker) tell some of the most offensive jokes I’ve ever heard. Next, we headed over to hear Sam XL & Jason Bently spin in the dance tent, before heading over to see Camera Obscura. I have loved Camera Obscura for awhile, & their last album was my soundtrack through some difficult times. Seeing them was on my Life List & I was SO STOKED to cross it off. They were so cute & fun & it was great to hear the songs I’d grown to love so much live.
Another piece of art from an installation...
Next up was The Temper Trap, whose rendition of their major hit, “Sweet Disposition” didn’t disappoint. We checked out Band of Skulls, who were a little hard rock for my taste, before going to the dance tent once again for Dirty South, who was definitely one of the best DJ’s I’ve ever seen, ever. We caught part of The XX, who were cool, but a little too mellow to really hold my attention. After some dinner, we saw MGMT, who were sadly a total disappointment — they sounded like they hadn’t really been practicing, & sort of gave off a “we’re too cool for school” vibe. I was sad, because I love that band. For our final foray into the dance tent, we saw Z-Trip, who is a mash-up artist. He may officially replace Girl Talk as my favorite. It was an absolutely amazing set. Tiesto closed down the night — we caught a few minutes before heading over to see Sia, one of my all-time favorite artists & a great way to end the festival. Sadly, work was calling, so Sunday meant driving home. Still, so much awesome packed into two days.
These bracelets were everywhere. I’m sort of naive, but judging by the fact that one reads “DRUG” I’m guessing these have some sort of…meaning. I don’t know.
There were so many great moments over this weekend: conversations that made me laugh until I had tears, amazing people watching, seeing musicians I’ve loved & respected for so long put on amazing shows, discovering new DJ’s that I know will comprise much of my summer playlist.
One of my favorite moments came when I was in the dance tent, feeling the beat reverberate through every bone, cell & pore, jumping & dancing my heart out, when I was caught off guard by happiness. It’s been a hell of a year, rife with stress & tears & uncertainty, but there, in that moment, jumping along to a Daft Punk sample against a rap beat, I felt a joy & peace that I hadn’t had in months. Maybe it’s weird to find peace in a moment where you can’t even hear yourself think, but that’s where it was, in a white tent, under a hot desert sky.
Who knew that here, in the lights & the noise, is where I’d be surprised by happiness.
I am so glad I went.
Hello, friends!
Well, I am home from Coachella & back in the swing of work already. It was definitely painful to wake up this morning & have to get dressed like a grown-up & drive to work, instead of hanging out in the sun & making choices about which bands I want to see. I’ll have a post with photos & my full Coachella experience tomorrow, promise. Still editing a few photos & trying to sum up a weekend that was truly amazing.
In the mean time, I had a few minutes to do my drawing for my Dove giveaway, so I thought I’d post them now. Drum roll, please! The winners are…
Kathleen, Alyssa, Her, Kelly, & Kelli!
If you’re a winner, please shoot me an email so I can put you in touch with Dove so you can get your deodorant! Thanks to all who entered, and thanks to Dove for providing an AMAZING giveaway!
So, since my brain is still on vacation, please tell me: what is the best thing that happened to YOU this weekend? Tell me something good…it’ll make my Monday more bearable.
Two years ago, I had the chance to go to Coachella Arts & Music Festival. To say that it was amazing is an understatement. Something about the music, the art, the dancing, the desert combines to make a sort of magic that I’d never really experienced at any other concert.
Tonight, I am Coachella-bound once again. I have a long list of bands I’m looking forward to seeing, & I am also really looking forward to some time in the sun, away from my day-to-day life. To that end, I’m planning on not checking email but once a day, & generally avoiding social media. It’s a much-needed break, & I also want to fully immerse myself in the Coachella experience, to be present & enjoy the heck out of what promises to be an amazing weekend.
So, friends…until Monday. I hope you all have the most amazing weekend. I’ll be back with lots to share, & hopefully feeling refreshed, happy & ready to dance.
I turn 27 in a week (oh my goodness, that looks, sounds and feels OLD when I type it!) & my generous, amazing family & friends have asked what I wanted. I’m being practical & good right now since the future is so uncertain & asking for money to keep in my piggy bank, but if I had unlimited dollars, this would be my wishlist:
A Clarisonic, the world’s most amazing facial cleanser brush…
A cupcake decorating kit, & of course…
Some baking inspiration for some uh, healthier cupcakes. As healthy as cupcakes can be, right?
A trip to Paris, where I could ride on this carousel & gaze at the Eiffel Tower, sip coffee at a cafe & eat more baguettes & croissants than I could ever dream…
A shiny, new pink ride…
A record player, with plenty of albums, ready for a spin…
Unlimited yoga classes at my favorite yoga studio, so I could be a little tree all the time…
Tell me, what’s on YOUR wishlist?
When I was a little girl, I used to make lists in my journal about the sort of Amy I was going to be. Sometimes, the list included things like “neat, clean, perfect, polite, straight A’s” & other times, it included things like “fun, silly, outgoing, A’s and B’s, party girl.” The lists were always starkly divided into what I perceived as two types of girl: the good girl & the fun girl.
Maybe it seems silly, but for some reason, I guess you could say I’ve always believed that you had to be one or the other. In high school & college, I was the classic “good girl” who never really rebelled. I never had a detention, got excellent grades, didn’t touch alcohol ’til I was 21 & generally stayed out of trouble. Later, I turned into a sort of rebellious, free-spirited hippie chick who would stay out all night, cleanse her apartment’s negative energy with sage sticks, worked as a massage therapist & made a lot of (rather ugly) art. Now, I reside somewhere else completely, I guess: I’m a teacher, a wine drinker, a wannabe crafter & am generally all too practical. I’ve never been good at blending my different “selves” and while I’m not Sybill or anything, I have always felt like parts of me are compartmentalized.
The truth is, I’m a bit of a walking contradiction. I’m an extroverted introvert, an NPR-listener with a penchant for US Weekly, the sort of girl who will binge on reality TV before delving into a classic novel. My likes & dislikes, while specific, don’t always seem to match up.
Sometimes, I feel like I’m always giving up some part of me, not because anyone is all, “No, you can’t listen to that hip hop! You just turned off The Weepies!” but because I like things better when they fit into my own little prescribed boxes. I always want to fit onto a list, into a box.
Except, I don’t. I mean, I don’t at all. Nor do I really want to. And I’m learning everyday to be more okay with that.
Part of “being okay with that” means being okay with all the things I’m not into. I’ve learned to look at things I wish I was really into — things like painting, running, football, beer, drawing — & simply say, “Wow, I wish I was good at that! Looks like fun!” I try to admire people who are good at those things, without feeling the need to try & fit in to that little “box.”
Instead, I’m trying to just be excited about what I’m excited about. Currently, those things include writing daily, watching baseball, spin class, finding a place to do yoga, dreaming about visiting Paris, exploring new opportunities, listening to hip hop/indie/alternative playlists while I drive with my sunroof down, white wine, figuring out how to take a French class on the cheap, dresses, skirts & as always, the color pink. I’m learning to really love the fact that I cry easily & laugh easily & am witty & smart & sensitive, all rolled into one.
The amazing Danielle LaPorte wrote, “Authenticity is not an either/or equation. Your soul is an all-inclusive package … frills, foibles, and contradictions. It’s your opposing parts that leverage your magnificence into full force…Don’t resign yourself to your idiosyncrasies. ‘Accepting’ yourself is a passively lame option for full-tilt self love. Exalt your contradictions, celebrate them, go so far as to use them to your divine advantage.”
With every day, I’m trying to get closer to that full-tilt self love. Some days, it’s easy…some days, it’s not. But I’m getting there.
So, last week, I wrote all about how much I hate denim & how I plan on only wearing skirts & DOWN WITH JEANS.
I meant it.
No, really. A few of you were very concerned about me & my dress wearing ways, including one of you sweet things who took the time to send me a Hateful Email about how dresses will “make me look stpid, because short girls shuldn’t wear dresses & I’m wasteful” & probably kill puppies! WHEE! I think my favorite comment came from Lauren From Texas who said dresses were great, as long as they didn’t have that Mormon Polygamist look. Girl, I am WITH YOU.
Over the weekend, I purchased a few very cheap dresses & have been feeling quite pretty & pleased with myself. Except for the fact that California was WARM & GORGEOUS as it is supposed to be, but the weekend was blustery & awful, & I am still cold now.
The other big issue (okay, fine, a totally first world problem!) is my paleness.
Guys, I am white. Like, blinding, scary pasty white. You can see my veins. It’s the antithesis of attractive. Also, I have a very complex relationship with Tan.
If I sit in the sun, I burn immediately. The scary blister burn. The I-want-to-rip-my-skin-off pain that only the whitest among us truly understand. And then there’s the itching & the aloe vera & the general disgustingness that is BURNING YOUR SKIN OFF.
When I was younger, I used to hit up the tanning bed. It was laughable, because I’d literally start with two minutes & then build up to four & so on. AND I WOULD STILL BURN. And, I would itch and be generally miserable, because seriously, I am NOT CUT OUT FOR THE TAN. Nor do I have time to waste at the tanning bed every day of my life.
In college, I decided “Hey! Sunless tanner is the way to go!” I applied it myself, and wound up looking like this:
The first time I applied it, I looked like a striped orange zebra. My mom & I nearly died as I showed her my legs & arms which were streaked. A few years later, I did the foaming mist, & placed several frantic calls to Leslie, a former tanning expert, begging her to tell me how to GET IT OFF MY SKIN, as I watched my knees and elbows turn an orange not found in nature. I then wore long sleeves for a week. IN JULY.
This year, I am trying the sort of “slow tan” Glow Moisturizer. So far, so…okay. I mean, I’m getting glowy, & there’s only one patch on my ankle that is a little orange (which, if we’re offline, real-life, hangout friends, I EXPECT YOU TO IGNORE SAID ANKLE).
This is progress.
Still, I know that sadly, the minute I step into the sunshine for longer than 10 seconds, it’ll be game over, but for now, let this girl have her faux-sunkissed dreams.
Or at least don’t mock me.
Are you a tan person? Are you pale like me & have suggestions for how to avoid blinding people with my Pale? HELP.
“See, I spent a lot of years being a person I wasn’t that proud of being and believing I couldn’t do much at all. I allowed my life (my relationships, my weight, my outlook on things) to reflect that. So, I want to give up some things this month to continue to prove to myself I can because I think when you surprise yourself, you begin to like yourself more and more. That’s important to me.”
— Jennie, who writes over at She Likes Purple
I was reading Jennie’s blog yesterday, and feeling inspired, because not only is Jennie the brains behind Style Lush, she’s doing all of these amazing things: budgeting and running 5K’s and giving up meat and being a great mom and an awesome friend. Jennie is one of those friends that I sort of stand in awe of, because while I have a million big ideas and secret dreams, Jennie DOES something about them.
Impressive.
I was reading along when I stumbled upon that little snippet, & tears sprang to my eyes. Tears are sort of standard here at Chez Amy, but that little string of words stirred something in me yesterday morning, as I read along in the silence of my classroom.
I’ve been feeling quite unsteady & unsure lately. Many things in my life are in flux, the largest of which is the possibility of not having a teaching job next year (although…possible good news on the horizon!). Every single person in my life has been all, “Yeah, you’ll be fine!” & proceeded to encourage me to write & edit & do all of those things that I try to cram in around lesson planning & reality TV.
All that I could think of was “ME? NO WAY!” or “Ha, I mean, sure, other people I know are making money from writing & finding ways to make it, but I could NEVER do that!”
Hang tight, I’m getting to the skinny part of this.
See, the thing is that I guess I’ve gotten a little used to letting myself down. I mean, yeah, I’ve gotten my act together significantly in the past few years, but I have this laundry list of very achievable goals. Things like losing weight, planning ahead at work, submitting some writing, finishing my laundry and generally keeping my life running smoothly. None of them are out of reach, or things I can’t do.
But somehow, in my little twisted head, I’ve gotten this message that I’m not good enough. Me, have a life that’s really & truly together? Me, be responsible enough with my money that I’ve got a large savings account & can pay off my debt? Me, actually lose the weight that causes me so much anguish? Me, be in a happy, healthy, functioning relationship that isn’t always on the verge of explosion? Me, live a life that’s creative & fun & bursting with possibility?
It all seems so out of reach for a girl like me.
You see, if you think you’re not worth it, it’s easily to justify letting your eating get out of control, because in your mind, you suck at everything, so why NOT just eat poorly, too? It’s easy to get off track going to the gym, because you already knew you weren’t ever really going to do it…you’re not capable of that. Because you’re a loser, remember? It’s easy to spend too much because you’ve decided you’re helpless at controlling your money. Why take opportunities when you know you’re just going to foul them up, anyways? When you don’t do something you really wanted, it’s easier because you’ve never really believed in yourself all along. It’s perfectly acceptable to spend your Saturdays lounging on the couch in a haze of Law and Order & whatever food you want, because you never really believed you could write successfully or start an Etsy shop or go out & tackle the world. It’s easy to let people let you down, because hey, you don’t think you’re worth all that much either. Letting people walk in & out of your life, trampling you in the process becomes tolerable when you view yourself as worthless.
My weight is just an outward manifestation of the fact that I don’t think very highly of myself.
Let’s be honest: I love food & don’t love working out — but those things CAN be overcome. I’ve got all of the knowledge in the world as to HOW to do this, I have a gym membership & every tool in the world to ensure my success. The “how-to” of weight loss isn’t a mystery to me.
It’s a heart problem.
Somewhere, inside I really believe, as absolutely effed up as this is, that I’m probably not worth it. I can’t tell you how many events —absolutely awesome events — I’ve bailed on because I didn’t want to look fat. I look back on memories from the past few years, & feel such little joy, because eww, I look disgusting in the photos. I don’t let myself fully enjoy things because I think I look terrible enjoying them.
Still, in my twisted little brain, I don’t believe I’m capable of much in this area. I think I’ve accepted that in this department, I’ll always be letting myself down, I’ll always be fatter than I’d like, I’ll never like my body, I’ll never be truly healthy or happy in my own skin.
I hate that. I don’t want to feel that way anymore.
So, to use Jennie’s words, I want to surprise myself. I want to look back in two months and say, “Holy crap! I really did workout every day before work!” I want to be proud of the way I’m eating. I want to see my body respond. I want to shock myself into seeing just how capable & awesome I am, because the more I think, write & process, the more I believe that when I get this issue in hand, my life will follow.
And most of all, I want to fix this little matter that is my heart, & my feelings towards myself. Because deep down, there’s this little voice that’s telling me that I’m worth a lot, that I deserve more than I’m allowing myself to have right now, that I can do & be & become all of these things & more.
I think I’d better listen.
I once heard or read somewhere that a ridiculous amount of children receive pet bunnies as part of their Easter present. Sounds adorable, no? Bunnies are soft, cuddly, hoppy little creatures, ideal for a first pet.
That’s what I thought, too.
When I was in kindergarten, my parents agreed that I could get a pet. I decided that I wanted to get a bunny. I have vivid memories of going with my parents to a local pet store and picking out my favorite bunny: a gray and white (apparently I have an affinity for gray and white animals) bunny that I called Jelly Bean. Jelly Bean was supposed to be a mini-lop bunny — tiny, sweet and perfect for a miniature six-year-old.
Little did we know, Jelly Bean was not *actually* a mini-lop. Instead, Jelly Bean was an absolutely massive animal. We bought him an extra-large cage so he’d have room to play. After only a few months, Jelly Bean stretched the entire length of his cage. He was huge. We should have known that not only was he growing physically, but the evil inside of him was also expanding.
Early on, we knew that this rabbit was made of pure evil. My mom and I were a bit squirelly around him, and the first time we played with him while my dad was at work, we took him out to let him hop around the guest room. Jelly Bean started uh, leaving little “nuggets” if you will ALL OVER. Like, rapid fire style. Both my mom and I tried to wrangle him back into his cage with no success because he would not be contained. Finally, after trying over and over again, we called my dad AT WORK to make him come home and wrangle the best.
I know that sounds ridiculous.
IT WAS NOT.
That rabbit was the spawn of Satan. If I’d hold him, he would kick me with his back feet. He bit my dad and I on multiple occasions. Petting him or holding him was absolutely impossible, because he was completely terrible and horrible. Finally, we turned him loose in the backyard, where he tortured any animals that stumbled into our yard, lived under our deck and generally lived among nature, where he belonged.
My dad was the one assigned to the Keeping of Jelly Bean, mostly because he is the brave one. His favorite story to tell is of the day a cat tried to attack Jelly Bean as he sat in the grass, nibbling and doing bunny-like things. The cat apparently thought that Jelly Bean was a giant rat, and stalked him from up on our fence before jumping into our backyard. The cat came up behind Jelly Bean…and Jelly Bean laid the smack down. He kicked the crap out of that cat with his hind feet, making the poor cat scramble up the fence and get the heck out of our backyard.
Needless to say, Jelly Bean was not the best “first pet” experience. When he died a few years later, I shed approximately two years and then went outside to play, no longer afraid of my own backyard.
Whenever people mention that they’re considering a bunny for their child, I tell them to sleep with one eye open.
Have you ever had a truly evil pet?
Typically, I wear jeans 2-3 times a week. They are my go-to item if I’m going anywhere on the weekends that requires me to change out of my sweats, & once a week to work on Fridays, because despite jeans being totally acceptable in my school’s (non-existent) teacher dress code, I try & look all professional-like Monday-Thursday, because being the youngest on campus means that I try to at least appear remotely adult in my wardrobe and it sets a tone that education is serious & all the other stuff they tell you in credentialing programs. But, now that my job situation has changed a bit and it’s the last quarter, I’m uh, “rebelling” by wearing jeans a little bit more frequently. Side note: WHAT A REBEL. Wearing something that is completely acceptable but just makes me feel rebellious! I am such a badass sometimes, I can hardly stand it.
Anyways, wearing jeans has reminded me of just how much I hate them. Yeah, I know, American wardrobe staple, you can dress them up or down, they make your butt look great, BLAH BLAH BLAH.
I beg to differ.
First, you should know that I’m 5″1. Miniature in height, not so much in body. This means that finding pants is nearly impossible. Don’t come at me with the “You can cut them off!” or “At least you’re not too tall…all pants are floods on me!” Being short means that if I do hem pants, I cut off any sort of boot cut situation, meaning that they end up looking like skinny jeans with a little “kick” at the ankle. NOT CUTE. On the rare occasion that I do find a pair in short or petite that fit, they’re either still too long or too short with heels.
Next, there’s the zipper. I have a pair of jeans that I love & adore. They’re comfy, worn in and generally awesome…save for the fact that the zipper absolutely refuses to stay up. My zipper was down once & I fixed it (after running errands for a frillion hours, SORRY, GREATER-SACRAMENTO AREA!) & then a few hours later, it was down again, I was all, “The hell? I haven’t even peed!” Same thing the next morning when I was out to breakfast with a friend, & she casually tried to give me the sign, & then it hit me, OKAY, JEANS, I GUESS THIS IS YOUR THING.
Needless to say, those are being thrown away.
I think the jeans in my wardrobe are ganging up on me, because my other favorite pair is doing that thing where they wear out in the near-crotch…right on my upper thigh. I mean, that’s easier to conceal that the zipper down, but I just don’t think I could handle having my entire huge white thigh exposed in any sort of situation.
So, with these unfortunate Denim Experiences, I have decided to declare a War On Denim.
I honestly prefer skirts and dresses anyways. I always have. Zooey Deschanel & my ever-growing love for her is not helping this situation. But sometimes, I wear them, & people are all, “Why so fancy?” & I’m all, “Why so casual?” but then I feel weird inside & I obviously don’t want everyone thinking I am some sort of dress-wearing weirdo. Also, I have a love-hate thing with tights, meaning that some colder mornings, the idea of putting on tights feels like more effort than it’s worth & I just want to wear PANTS.
Still, with warmer weather ahead & my general Anger At Denim, I’m thinking that now will be the time to test drive a skirts-and-dresses-only policy.
Oh, & leggings, of course. One I find some more shirts that cover my behind properly, of course because NO, I WILL NOT BE LEGGINGS-AS-PANTS GIRL. Uh, this will go into effect once I’ve shaved my legs and found some sort of solution to the BLINDING WHITE that is my skin, but does not involve a tanning bed OR looking like an Oompa Loompa.
Le sigh.
FIRST WORLD PROBLEMS, I KNOW. My life is hard.
What’s your relationship to denim? Are you a jeans lover or more of a dresses person? Guy readership (all two of you!), do you like girls in skirts/dresses or jeans?
Get in touch!
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