There was a time in my life when this was all I wanted for my birthday. It was a dark period -- one I've tried desperately to forget.
I'd like to point the finger at my mother for letting me think this was okay -- she should have had the foresight to know I would only suffer more self esteem issues for having proof of my awkward vanity and bad sense of style. I mean, seriously, couldn't the nice lady in the costume closet dress me in something a little classier than faux leopard fur? Sequence and crushed velvet, perhaps?
The nerve of some people...
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