leather jacket:
h&m
mock neck top:
F21
suede skirt: c/o OASAP (sold out) basically identical version
here
tights:
h&m
booties:
F21
Told ya guys I was back for realsies. ;) Anyhow, thoughts, thoughts. There's so many! Let's start with throwing it out there that Conference was stinkin' awesome. Yeah? Yeah. I'll pretend like you can all ja feel with me as I'm typing this because it was. There will be more on that later, though. BUT, if you do care to read a more spiritual post written by yours truly please go check out
Foundation Magazine! Oh and because this isn't an essay -thank HEAVENS- I'm not even going to bother to try and connect that former thought with the one that's coming next. Partly because I'm lazy but mostly because they don't even match and I full on sat here for ten minutes trying to figure out how to make this post flow and I just flat out gave up because it's a futile task. You're welcome. ;)
Kay, now for what I'm actually trying to get at, you know how every gym -and I mean EVERY gym- has that one weirdo that dances like a freak while they work out? Go on, think about it. Picture your gym in your minds eye and you'll realize your gym has one. It's just a thing that happens. If there's a gym, there's a dancing weirdo. Some gyms even get blessed with a handful of them, one for the morning, midday, and evening gym goers to enjoy chuckling at. Mostly these "dancing-while-they-work-out" weirdos stick to the elliptical because sliding your legs forward and backward ferociously is already half way to major jammin'. All you have to do is throw in some booty shakes and arm jives and you're basically at Beyonce-Back-Up-Dancer status on that thing.
Anyway, the reason I even bring this up is because I've slowly started to realize that the dancing weirdo at my university's gym is...me. Yup. And, freak, I don't even need an elliptical. Doing my plyometric workouts? You best believe I'm jammin' before/in between/during/after every single dang jump squat, box jump, lunge etc. What about arms day, you ask? Pffft. Pffft. Where there's a will there's a way. I'm talking booty shaking in between push ups, and head bouncing to ma sick jams during tricep dips. I know I probably look insane, but I just can't care enough to stop. So...yeah, that was basically the extent of that thought. Can we think of a prettier way to end this, though? How about, "Ima do me, and you do you"? Or, "dance to the beat of your own drum"? Nah, I actually hate both of those statements with a passion so because this is technically a style blog we'll end this post with, this leather jacket is ma jam lately and this skirt is tiny and should therefore be retired but it's still majorly cute. (<-Run on sentence. I have learned nothing in my bazillion years of schooling, clearly.;)
Much love!
