When the Spice Girls were a thing, I was TOTALLY in to them. Embarrasingly so. Zigga-Zig-Aah all the way. I always imagined myself to be Posh, since she was, well, Posh. Realistically? I was probably an unfortunate combo of Ginger obnoxiousness and Scary frizziness. Regardless, I have continued to regard Posh as a bit of a personal fashion hero. Bitch wore heels throughout all of her pregnancies AND managed to look fierce the whole time. Pregnant Me? I was a bloated, unfashionable whale who never wears khakis (EVER) and the ONE time I wore them out of 9-month pregnant desperation, my f-ing water broke and I looked like a fatty gravy-drinking loser who didn't make it to the porta-potty in time at a low grade wine festival when the blessed event commenced.
Where was I? Oh, right. THIS.
Presh little kitten prints? On a baggy tunic, dress abomination? No thanks. I'll take a Union Jack camel toe and leopardy 'fro any day of the week over this nonsense.
PS-Big smacky kisses and sparkley love to my friend K.O. and her obviously hip co-worker for bringing this disaster to my attention. xoxo
The fact you managed to bring a camel toe into this is fantastic.
ReplyDelete