28 is the new…. well…. nothing. There is nothing new about being 28.
Yesterday was my birthday.
30 is waaaayyy too close for comfort.
Its like when a big stinky guy sits next to you on the subway.
You just close your eyes and hope it goes away.
Even though you know damn well its gonna stick around and haunt you.
“Don’t you need to see my ID? No, well, maybe you should check, its out of state! Seriously, you might want to double check. Really? Damn. Give me the biggest mimosa you have. NOW.”
The Deets:
Black T: JC Penny
Faux Fur Vest: Kohls
Jeans: Charlotte Russe
Booties: Charlotte Russe
Clutch: Thrifted
Coat: Agacai
See. My face in the first pic is saying “eff this late 20s shit”
So, in complete rebellion, Husband and I ventured to Hoboken, NJ to drink and watch football.
I don’t handle cheap pitchers of beer like I used to.
Reason #59 why getting old sucks.
Booze intolerance.
I’m working on building a resistance.
