Ten minutes ago I did that awful girl thing where you search for something because you saw a girl on a blog wearing it and you thought that if you bought it you would become her, as bread and wine become the body and blood of Christ. (What is that? Transmogrification? Transubstantiation? I was big into the Ts in my dictionary phase.)

I mean, these magic boots haven’t arrived yet so it’s still possible but I doubt my thighs are going to lose an inch the minute I shimmy into them. They’re not even real suede. Free post though? 

~Clutches wildly at all the straws tumbling down into a deep chasm of regret~

It’s at times like this that I remember some of the best things I own (plastic skeleton hand hairclips, kids’ leopard coat, platform Goth boots, floor length silver dress) are also some of the cheapest things I own. But then again, I’m not a poor beggar lady any more so here they are, in all their arrogant faux-luxe glory:

Maybe the thighs come with the boots.