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Not too heinous

The only time I've ever enjoyed shopping for clothes were those couple of ten-minute periods long ago when I managed to starve and pound myself down into a "normal" size range.

In the faint hope of finding...you know, something, I stopped at a shop this afternoon where I occasionally find a suitable casual item or two.

It's not that I expect to look actually good in anything I buy--there is not enough magic in the world for that--but I don't think it's outside the realm of possibility for me to look relatively good. Better in some styles than others.

But no. The best I could say about today's look through the racks was "not too heinous." And that applied only to a few items, none of which was not-heinous enough for me to actually spend money on.

So I came home purchaseless and, having saved a ton of money on my wardrobe, dropped it all at the liquor store on a bottle of 15-year-old Laphroaig. Coupla shots of that, and I look marvelous.

Crossposted from Dreamwidth, where there are comment count unavailable comments. | Comment at Dreamwidth.

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