Tuesday, May 27, 2008

I don't wanna grow up

I've been thinking about updating my wardrobe to reflect a more grown-up me, and while I recognize the need to replenish some work wardrobe staples in my closet and add a few business casual and dressier items, I have decided that I'd really just rather wear t-shirts. Every time I want to go out somewhere, I'm all like, oh I don't have anything to wear, and I either don't go (classic Michelle wuss-out) or I wear a t-shirt. Which isn't very feminine or flattering.

You know what? Screw feminine and flattering. If I wear some generic sweater or cute top, it may look a little more grown up than a t-shirt, but it says nothing about me. I love my t-shirts because when I wear one, you know a little of me. I haven't bought a t-shirt at a store in a few years, and yet still they overflow--evidence of pieces of my life. My t-shirt may tell you that I love soccer (or more specifically, Creighton soccer or ABK or Abby Wambach). It may tell you that I am proud of my family (Rule #77: Made with Greek parts). It may tell you that I like animals (pio, pio; bone appetit), or gee, perhaps that I went to Creighton for a long time and was in Phi Delta Chi and that I obviously kicked butt in intramural sports. I have the occasional "I care about cancer victims/survivors" and the enigmatic yearly LP9 editions, and a few that prove my existence in Omaha (homaha, Marian football). I want my clothes to say something about me, yeah? So maybe I'll add a few actual pieces to my wardrobe in the coming weeks. But the t-shirts stay.

Okay, lunch is ready and I'm starving. My stomach growling can be heard in Kuwait.

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I reserve the right to make this blog as worthless to read as I feel like, and also to write as infrequently as I deem necessary. Just thought I'd let you know since I finally decided to share my blog.