My new deodorant smells strongly of baby powder. This is a smell I do not enjoy because it has stong diaper associations for me.
I spend so much time at my current job doing anything but the work that it’s my job to do. I call it my “current job” because the very second I get a better offer I’ll be out of here. Later suckers!
In the meantime, I have a lot of time to daydream about my ideal profession. Here are some of my ideas:
1. Interior Decorator
2. Something at a magazine
3. Stay-at-home mother
5. Professional Blogger
6. Television Critic
7. Professional Shopper
8. Personal Shopper
9. Online Shopper
You get the gist.
So, we all know about Chanel and Louis Vuitton and Balenciaga and lust after it and most of us can’t afford any of it.
I just spent my lunch half hour leafing through a Flare. As always, I skipped most of the magazine and headed straight for the fall fashion pages. They should be called Fall Fashion for the Queen and Oprah because they are the only women whole could realistically afford any of the pieces declared “Fall’s Must Haves!”
Where, I ask, are the magazines that will tell me about the stellar deals at The Gap or The Banana Republic or, if I’m really feeling like splashing out, Top Shop?
If only I weren’t quite so lazy I’d attempt to break out and fill this niche in the market. Instead I’ll stuff the rest of my sandwich in my purse and take it home for dinner.
I’m an emotional eater. When I’m depressed, I eat. When I eat, I get fat. When I get fat, I get depressed. When I get depressed, I eat.
That, my friends, is a vicious cycle.