Sweatpants. And credit card debt.
(This blog is my effort to bust out of both.)
Everything gets more complicated when you consider that I went from sharing a house with sixty girls (not a brothel) to sharing a house with two girls with wildly different closets to sharing an apartment with Boyfriend, who, God love him and his full-spectrum rainbow of Ralph Lauren polos, has never answered yes to the question "is this dress too short?" Helpful, babe. Endlessly helpful.
You know how the old saying goes: I got 99 problems but female input/disposable income/a career in a creative field with a high tolerance for fun clothes ain't one. Oh that's not how it goes? Sorry Jay.