I have a love-hate relationship with shopping. Don't get me wrong - there's no better feeling than finding something that is not only ridiculously sexy, but that you're ninety-five percent sure will make you feel like you're on the runway. That is, until the overly crowded dressing room comes into the picture and you realize that being trendy has a major price.
"Alright ovaries, no pain, no gain."
"I can't tell if this dress makes my butt look fat or if it's just this sketchy lighting."
With any luck, that midi skirt just may end up being your greatest purchase yet. "Fashion gods, please don't fail me now."
"Come in here, quick! Is my panty line showing?"
30 minutes later and your zipper is still stuck. "Welcome to hell on earth."
"I'd like to thank all of my fans for this incredible moment."
...And it's your least favorite. "Well, those are three hours of my life I'm never getting back."
"Man, I really do have the same amount of hours in a day as Beyoncé."
Truer words have never been spoken.
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