Rebellion

These photograph terribly. They're actually really sparkly in person.

Dress: Lucky Brand

Boots: Vintage/Vintage Angel

Tights: Hue/Macy's

Earrings: Buckle

I apologize for the fact that I haven't done any outfit posts lately. I've been feeling a bit under the weather since just after Christmas. My stomach has decided that it apparently doesn't like anything but salad and saltines. While I do love a good salad, I also love a good cheeseburger, and good mashed potatoes (you know what I'm talking about, Inna!)... neither of which I have been able to eat. I went to the doctor earlier this month and he gave me some medicine that apparently isn't working (LAME!). SO, I'm going back tomorrow. The doctor -- and my father, also a doctor -- seem to think it may be gallstones, which would be super duper lame. If it is, and I have to have surgery... well, poor Mr. CP is all I have to say. Anyway, enough with my excuses. Moving on to the outfit!

For most of my life, I categorically refused to wear anything even remotely cowboyish. In part, it was a rebellion against the Aggies I grew up around. We all have our forms of rebellion. Some sneak out of the house in the dead of night to canoodle (that's right, I said canoodle!) with a girlfriend or boyfriend, while others get a bit carried away their first year of college with the house parties and readily available alcohol. My form of rebellion took a rather unusual form: I swore never to wear anything even vaguely cowboy-ish. Sure, I went to a couple rowdy cowboy bars (my poor dance partners), and occasionally entertained the notion of going cow tipping (if such a thing were possible... is it? I've heard different stories). And I may or may not have lost a bet and gone to a country music festival. As for wearing anything cowboyish, though... nope. Nuh-uh. Not me. I know, I know. My hardcore form of rebellion has blown your mind. 

Oh, how the mighty have fallen. When I saw this dress, it seemed to cry out for a cute pair of cowboy boots. So, off I went to a local store here in Seattle that sells refurbished vintage cowboy boots. They were cheap, they were already broken in, and did I mention they were cheap?

As he was taking photos, Mr. CP told me a disgusting -- and I do mean DISGUSTING -- joke. I thought I would share with you all my reaction. For the record, I have about 15 other photos that depict my horror/disgust/mild amusement.

And, finally, just because I can: a funny hair picture. Because we should never take ourselves too seriously. For serious.