It generally goes without saying among people who know me that I am a tomboy. I like big t-shirts and comfy jeans and work boots. I like beer and boobs and not wearing pants at every available opportunity and have almost always been considered “one of the guys”. I don’t do the makeup thing. Dresses are worn on three occasions: weddings, funerals, and the rare convention. My nails always look awful, I don’t ever do anything with my hair other than keep it out of the way, and my version of clothing shopping is “grab the first black or blue thing that fits and get the hell out”.
There is one exception to this, and my only “girly” part is that I own roughly All Of The Shoes. A pair for every occasion, and I’m always on the lookout for more. Which brings me to today’s adventures, in which I get a text from my roommate this afternoon with three simple words: “Put on pants.”
It turned out we were heading to a thrift store where she was going to buy her birthday present from her mother. On the way she mentioned she found an awesome pair of shoes at a different thrift store that were part of the same line as a pair she had, but she wasn’t sure if they’d fit me. And so we stopped on the way, where I scored myself a sweet new (“new”) pair of Converse.