Did you guys know I've gained a little weight lately? No? Well, everyone on 5th avenue does, including the gentle angel who approached me from behind and told me that my skirt was ripped in an "inopportune place" and that I should probably have someone fix it. Cool, I hate myself, thanks!
Of course I am wearing lime green tights that could be seen from the moon the day my underthings decide to make a peeking cameo through my split seam. I walked the rest of the way to the office shivering with my sweater wrapped around my waist. Just like getting my period in high school, but better because I'm ostensibly an adult!
Does "it get better," kids? DOES IT?
Only you can turn this day around by reminding me that I am not stewing alone in this bubbling cauldron of shame and mortification we call life. Please leave your stories of unexpected wardrobe malfunctions in the comments while I go buy a new skirt.
No, seriously, I hate myself.