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I'm a Style Failure

I’ve never been the girl who pours over fashion magazines. I’m not exactly stylish, unless you consider wearing strictly pink and black clothing a style. Sure I like to look cute, but the work involved with looking my personal best stresses me out.

I’m also horrible with details. Proof?

I got home yesterday and noticed my socks were mismatched:

And that my shirt was missing two rhinestones:

It’s moments like this when I miss having roommates. Another woman would mock me until I changed, plus having access to clothing someone else picked out helps with the style factor. I imagine that’s what having a personal shopper feels like.

Or a gay husband.

I’m open to either at this point.

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