As my grandmother used to say, "this shit is going to hell in a handbasket."
Ok, she probably didn't say 'shit'.
And what does this crazy expression from the past even mean?
Regardless, my body has officially gone to hell in a handbasket.
I had this internal converstation with myself today:
"Hi, zit on my throat. You hurt, please go away."
That's right, my throat.
My hair is a mess, my nails are crappy, my skin is a ghastly shade of white and I'm breaking out like its my job. Plus I hate all my clothes and shoes.
If you haven't already guessed I'm celebrating one hell of a pity party over here.
I'm in a rut and they are expensive little buggers to get out of.
Effffff.
Welcome Spring.
You bring sunny skies, bunnies, spring/summer collections and the realization that I let myself go all winter.
If I could send myself a greeting card right now, it would be this one:
xo, Vicky
