personal

Oh, Are we really doing this?

Well, I started out my morning eating a bowl of Kashi, so. I'm really taking life by the horns here. Nothing tells you that today is going to be a good day like a bowl full of fiber. Were my grandmother still here, god rest her soul, we would go on later to have a conversation about how regular my bowel movements are and just how wonderful it feels to be "normal" for once in this life.

Well, I started out my morning eating a bowl of Kashi, so. I’m really taking life by the horns here. Nothing tells you that today is going to be a good day like a bowl full of fiber. Were my grandmother still here, god rest her soul, we would go on later to have a conversation about how regular my bowel movements are and just how wonderful it feels to be “normal” for once in this life.

As a kid, you never grow up thinking that you’re going to wake up excited to eat cereal in the morning. You fantasize about having somebody make you a romantic breakfast in bed, with fresh squeezed, not plagued by blight orange juice, like you’re straight outta 1954. Lemme tell you, in your adult life, nothing is more satisfying than buying a box of cereal for 2.49 at Target and being able to turn it into 4 breakfasts because you, my dear reader, are ballin’ on a budget. You chase that cereal with your two dollar bodega coffee *at least, you pray it’s coffee* and seize the day, of course, after you’ve applied all of your anti-aging, anti-patriarchy moisturizers. Chapped faces can’t protest the president, now can they?

Today, will be spent brooding over an audition that I have in a week for a film. I know this because I did the same thing yesterday for approximately 8.5 hours, in between eating. meals. If I’m ambitious, I’ll go to the gym. But, probably not. I mean, sure, health is wealth, but I’m poor, so….. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

I’m not going to be one of those people who posts every single day, trust me–you do not want to see my outfit every single day of the week. Since I’m only working 3 days a week, I guarantee you that the rest of the week I’m going to be wearing a robe shorter than my arms stretched out, and you know what that means? That’s right, I’m a goddamned bum.

For the record, sweatpants are always accompanying said robe–I’m not a heathen. But, if you ever see me in public in sweatpants, something has gone heinously wrong and I want you to take me to a doctor.

Thanks for humoring me again today, ya’ll.

xoxo,
Rosie

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