I do what I want.

I'm clearly very concerned with my appearance. 

Nothing gives me greater pleasure than looking like a bum. I usually look like a librarian or a Goodwill (Industries) ambassador. I'm a spinster chameleon.

So when I show up looking like I put some effort into my appearance, people usually comment. I think they are trying to subtly encourage me to continue looking decent.

One day I showed up with some sweet romantic waves. A lot of people noticed it and commented on the general niceness of my hairstyle.

Well jokes on them.

I woke up with my hair like that. Mostly. A few bobby pins to pin up the back. Done.

Thank you to three whiskey sours the night before, a forgotten bobby pin - left in overnight - and the faint remnants of two day old hairspray.

Bobby Pins, Hair Spray, Whiskey Sours. I salute you. You are real American heroes.

I've been wearing this bright orange hat lately. The other night, my roommate AM joked "I can't wait for 2 years from now when you'll look at pictures of yourself in that hat and say 'what was I thinking?'" 

The problem with that statement is that I don't really have any shame about my appearance. I don't get dressed - up or down - for anyone but myself.

So I'm going to rock this orange hat until it falls apart. Or Mondo eats it. Whatever comes first.