What you see is what you get...

To some people, appearance is v v v important. Now, I wasn't raised to leave my house in du-rags and pajama pants like some of you heffas, But don't think that hasn't stopped me from dressing like a 17 year old boy that blew 8 months of his allowance at Sheikh Shoes. Ralph's....Yogurtland...99Cent Store, my mother taught me that you should always go through life as if you had stepped out of a Ann Taylor catalogue...or an Oprah Winfrey Book Club Meeting. Super classy and elegant, you know? However, she and I have VERY different standards. Like Beyonce, my mother has 2 different hairstylists, one to cut and one to color. Is 2 egregious? Yes. But I let someone put their fingers in my hair about as I left a dentist poke around in my mouth.....fuck.... I really need to go to the dentist. Nails are always painted to perfection is the seasons' triendiest colors. I'm pretty sure she works manicures into her budget. I don't have that problem because I have chewed my finger nails down to nubbly stubs! #moneysavingtips. I clipped my toenails the other day ONLY because they were cutting a hole in my favorite pair of socks. Sidenote: You ever clip your nails and they spring 5 feet off your body like a Ginzu knife flying through space. I say Ginzu knife because if you’ve ever had one of those little motherfuckers hit you, you know they are sharp. Like papercut sharp. And where the fuck do they fly to, anyways? Why do they fly so far?! And how am I supposed to findthem?! She dressed like a lawyer that just walked out of a courtroom on Law and Order: SVU. Meanwhile, my cut off white tee not only shows off my soft serve abs (I cut that shit way too short on accident) but all the stupid food I've crammed into my mouth hole over the last few days. Spaghetti sauce splatter, Mustard sprays, Toothpaste smudges and coffee drips. Its really one of my finest works of art. Like if Jabba the Hut had gone to the Academy of Art. But not only am I creative, I am also an innovator. Just the other day I discovered that the Australia sized hole in the crotch of my faded capri stretchy pants was big enough to masturbate through. The point is, I try.... I'm lying.