Good posture and bog facials

I'm not 20 anymore. It comes as quite a shock! 

How do I know this? Because today when I was walking across the city in these D&G heels, lugging two huge, stuffed-full, blue Ikea bags, one on each shoulder, I had to stop for a snack. Of course I often stop for a snack (I keep telling myself that my pants feel tighter because the laundry water is getting hotter and hotter), this time I wanted a rest as much or more than a snack.

Oh, but nature, she is not too cruel. She has gifted us with the diminishing ability to see things close-up as we age, which I'm convinced is to protect us from passing out from shock when we get up in the middle of the night and see our wrinkles in full definition in the mirror before we are fully awake.

There's not much I can do about the wrinkles part; that's okay. The annoying Top Blog recommends that I invest in a facialist. But they also recommend that I start slathering bee pollen all over my face at night. Do you know what that is?

Bees go out, stick gobs of pollen to their legs, fly it back home, and then head-butt it into little cells, mixing it with bee spit and nectar. Their family eats it, like bee porridge I suppose. Oh yes, I can see how that would be good for my face(?), and imagine all those poor hungry bees. No thank you. There are other foods that are good on my face, like chocolate pudding.

Just a cotton robe and pants with a silk blouse but I feel like an empress. I could be saying, "Did you wash your neck?"
O says that you are told to wash your neck in Japan before they cut off your head. Niiice. 

So why is it we think things that we eat are necessarily good to slop on our face? - coconut, honey, tea, yogurt, coffee, avocado, turmeric, berries. Why not just have breakfast in the tropics instead? I'm sure that would be good for my face. Then there's algae. And mud. Why don't we just all go swim in a bog? Mark my words, that will be the next big trend: "Romantic night-time Swim-with-the-Beavers bog facial tours!!"

On the issue of aging, one thing I that I think makes us look older is poor posture. I have three stellar tips in that department, none of that trendy, screamy, spandexed "STRENGTHEN YOUR CORE!" stuff.

Three Tips for Good Posture

1.  If your boss asks you to kiss his/her ass, ask him/her to please step up on a chair so you can avoid bending over. Or refuse for therapeutic reasons. I guarantee, if you refuse, you will walk taller, especially if you're trying to stand out in the unemployment line. 

2. Brush the chips off your shoulders, lighten the load. Put that cross you bear in the closet while you're at it. They ruin a good outfit and shoulder pads are passé.

3. Finally, if you have an angel on one shoulder and a devil on the other, for goodness sake, get rid of the angel! You'll have half the burden and twice the fun. This state may be achieved more quickly if you put your cross in the closet.

I'm wearing jewel tones, but where are the frickin' jewels? How does one make the leap from fabric to mineral? Tell me. Tell me that!

Seriously, I'm trying to work on improving my posture. While I brush my teeth, I stand up straight with my back and shoulders against the wall. It's easy (bonus) and has become a habit. Now I can copy that feeling when I go out without worrying that I'm holding my shoulders back at a freakish angle - it's supposed to feel like that.

The noodle walk above does not show the results of my self-improvement efforts to best effect. But it does show this fabulous robe outfit - no wonder I deluded myself into thinking I'm 20. Shelley of Forest City Fashionista gave me this robe a while back; this is its first outing. In today's breeze I got maximum benefit of its swooshy awesomeness.

Purple and green pattern cotton maxi robe from Shelley, thrifted Hilfiger cotton green paisley pants, vintage Prussian blue silk blouse, old thrifted D&G shoes, magic loupe from O, and an empty parking lot - it was a good day, even though I'm not 20. In fact, I'm glad I'm not 20, very glad. I'm wiser and way more mature, heck yeah.

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I'll be linking this up to Catherine at Not Dressed as Lamb for #iwillwearwhatilike. Patti of Not Dead Yet Style is on holiday or I'd link up to her too. I can't wait to read about her adventures in Canada! [Edit: Yes, I'm wearing wine too, which is the theme for Anne at SpyGirl, 52 Pick-me-up. I thought it was still neutrals, which this is not. I lift a glass. I'm linking!]

Have a great week, everyone! What's your favourite food to put on your face?

Also, thank you to Brigitte Woman magazine's online site in Germany for featuring me in their article Style icons over 50 - we learn from them. I'm listed as the Eccentric I think - the translation says Exzentrikerin. That's me. Thank you!

Yellow Skirt Freak Show Update!! and great walls

When you can't decide what colour or pattern to wear, of course you wear them all.

And below, just so you don't think I've gone all soft and happy and positive - the look I throw on 1) if I sense some style-rule 'tude coming my way, my withering regal glare or 2) to convince gawkers in the surrounding highrises that I know exactly what I'm doing in the alley. Bwhahaha! 

Who needs Mr. Bean when you've got me bungling around with my bag and the tripod and my alcohol spray, flappy pants, and my remote, and that stupid thing there, and, geez, what is that?, my purse, thinking all the while, DON'T LET IT TOUCH THE GROUND!! Oof, arf, ack - it's my distinctive cry.

Oh yes, everything under control here. Yes-sireedy-deedy (no meaning there, Greetje).

Wearing: hip-slung oversized palazzo pants from Used House of Vintage, top from Value Village long ago, corset belt from I-forget-where, shoes from the reject sale pile at Topshop a couple of years ago, earrings from My Sister's Closet. I tucked in the top and decided I also needed the belt.

I have lots of photos but, puh, enough of that. NEXT!!! she screamed (like that screamy Frau Farbissina in Austin Powers. You can see her true magic here). But first -

Breaking News

The Travelling Yellow Skirt Freak Show continues.

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Never has the 
Freakish Yellow Skirt

.

blown so much HOT AIR

She RISES to New HEIGHTS of 
Fa-byuu-luss FREAKINGNESS!!

Buoyed by elan and grace and great gobs of elegance

She breaks fresh wind

* S  a l  l y *
.

SarsaparillaSal

(click blog name to link)

with sunshine from Umbi

you will truly be AMAZED!!! (for real)

G O ! !   G O   N O W ! ! ! !

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I knew Sally was a madly-skilled sewist and stylist with a wonderful sense of humour, but this FYS project blew me away. Hahaha! You must see her post here, well, all her posts - so worth it. Soon she'll also put up a "Making of the Yellow Skirt" post as well. You'll see why.

Thanks, Sally!! And thanks also to your artistic director, photographer, the villa custodians, and of course your gifted son, Umbi. Your joyful styling made my day! The skirt is now winging its way to the USA.

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Refreshed from that interlude, are you? You must be ready for NEXT OUTFIT!!

Yes, a little off center, cut off, with a crooked horizon. Just like my life. My superb thrifted vintage jumpsuit from Used House of Vintage, which features a persnickety rear metal zip, worn with my vintage leather belt and thrifted Miu Miu boots. Earrings from My Sister's Closet. Hair from my head.

Another quickie blankie photo with a scrap piece of black fleece as a backdrop and disinfected soles.

And one more photo for the road because I have it and I like it and I risked my humility once again to take it in a new location. It seems everywhere I turn these days I run into another great wall. Oof.

That's all from here. I have been a failure at visiting everyone. I'll try to catch up.

I'll link this up to:
Patti at Visible Monday, Not Dead Yet Style
Catherine at #iwillwearwhatilike, Not Dressed as Lamb
Anne at 52 Pick-me-up: Ivory/Rejection, heh, SpyGirl.

Have a great week.
I love that yellow skirt.

6 facts of life. Live like a dog.

Well, now that I'm in my 53s I should be facing facts. 

1.  I'm never going to be six feet tall unless I wear really, really high platform shoes (see also #4) and I'll never be an international flight attendant, well, probably not. But that's okay. I don't like serving food anyway and I don't like flying unless I'm in Royal Ultra Supreme Class. 

Thrifted hand-knit poncho with caterpillar fringe, never worn, with new tags attached. $5, My Sister's Closet. 

2.  South becomes a popular destination. Our face, our boobs, our ass, even our frickin' knees, all go there - but please not our 'tude! 

3.  People go to Florida (or another warm southern place), at least many CARP (Canadian Association of Retired Persons) seasonally migrate south, no longer to spawn but merely to frolic, if health insurance and exchange rates allow. (But don't go too far south; that's called the everlasting pit of damnation.) 

Considering how many CARP head to warmer climates every winter, I often wonder why my country doesn't trade some awful Canadian place, definitions to vary, for a tropical island. Of course we couldn't take one over by force; we'd be too busying apologizing for our aggression. 

Jimi Hendrix T in dark olive, Hilfiger thrifted pants, magic loupe, thrifted coat. On my way home today, there was an impromptu conference about my coat among strangers on the corner. We all parted with huge grins on our faces.

4.  I'm supposed to be grown up, although ironically I'm probably shrinking, literally. And I'm sure to be grounded even more as my ability to wear heels (and be six feet tall) diminishes. Every time I get ready to go out there is a massive General Assembly of my mind and body. My feet and brain get three votes and my vision only gets one. Why? Because it's rigged, that's why!! I think we need to take someone down. Or build a frickin' wall, I'm not sure how that would work.

5.  I'm probably as mature as I'm going to get. (Stop your tsk'ing!) Yup, I've already mentioned the words boobs and ass here. I never minded those Ps and Qs or Ts and As. But I'm probably as polite as the next CARP; it helps when I don't talk and I slow down my movement by 50 percent, like a fish in cold water. But I do have manners. I rank right up there with the other bottom-feeders.

Full impact photo with mug-shot face. Hair about 6 inches tall because I'm not getting any taller, ya know.

But all of these facts are nothing, nothing, if you consider that we're being whipped around the Earth at 10,000 mph day after day after day. It's a wonder we can function at all. Ever thought about that?

I guess the best way of dealing with facts is to picture a dog with its head sticking out a pickup truck window, tongue wabbling, ears flapping. All that at only 30 mph. Heck, when we're bootin' down the highway at 60 mph we should be three times the dog, our heads hanging out our windows, hair getting messed up, drooling at each other and running out of wiper fluid it's so gosh-darn drooly out there. There should be a category in the traffic report: heavy drool, Hwy 99.

If I said my tongue was like a lizard, would you believe me? Now, get that thought right out of your head this instant!!!

Considering our earlobes don't stop growing, or our noses, every year we seem to be moving closer to our doggy friends who know how to take advantage of a good thing. I'm in my 53s and I want to be more like that dog (which would make me just over 7 years old in dog years, heh). I may not get any taller or smarter or nicer, and that's a fact I can take if I can live like a dog.

The coffee after the coffee walk. Wearing my new thrifted poncho. 

Did I just write this? Hahaha! Which brings me to the last, all-important fact:

6. Proofreading and editing are for wusses. Heh.

I'm linking this up with the usual suspects:
Patti, Not Dead Yet Style, Visible Monday - Rumour has it there will be spiked punch? Bwahaha!! You probably think I've already been there.
Catherine, Not Dressed as Lamb, #iwillwearwhatilike
Anne, SpyGirl, 52 Pick-me-up: Electric Blue / Impatience (my socks qualify)

Have you got any new facts to add to my list?

You faltered

Was it my gold sequins? Electric pink lipstick? Maybe my high-heel biker boots. Whatever it was, it caught your eye - and your imagination - and you faltered. I saw it. You were thinking - and you may have even told me - that you wish you could wear what I'm wearing but you couldn't possibly "pull it off."

Dear, oh dear.

"Get away with it" and "pull it off" - that's what bank robbers and hard-core criminals say when they've pulled a job and eluded the coppers. But now it usually refers to the daring of wearing a splodge of aubergine with - gasp! - orange. Have our standards of risk-taking sunk to such lows?

How did we get from bank-robbing to clashing colours as criminal behaviour? What does this say about our standards? What's next? Your partner brings home some laundry detergent and you offer a night of wild sexual favours in return? (Okay ---, I know this is de rigeur for you, but for everyone else, you know what I'm saying?)

One day I bumped into a friend while I was shopping and we ended up talking about style, as usual. He dresses for New York; I dress for wherever I happened to land that day, so we have a lot in common. I was whining about the lack of magazines for deviant women over 50, especially in Canada, and how our preeminent magazine for that demographic, targeted to "boomers with zip," was definitely NOT FOR ME.



To give you an example, it has a SPIRIT section which features: happiness, faith, obituaries, nostalgia/humour. There is excessive coverage of British royals and Hollywood from news feeds and an emphasis on getting Canadian seniors to sign up for CARP, the Canadian Association of Retired Persons. So now we're simply known as fish, bottom-feeders at that. That's something to carp about (bwahaha, couldn't help myself). [Edit: The mag has been slightly revamped and the obits are gone. Genius move!]

Wearing "Dressed to Piss You Off" T-shirt made for me by Suzanne Carillo, maxi denim coat she scouted for me at Talize thrift store, psychedelic tights, low heel ankle boots, and jewels, JEWELS! 

He suggested that I write up a pitch for the kind of magazine I'd like to see, and although I knew our banter was more sport than business, I decided to do the exercise anyway. Here's what I came up with:

Anna Wintour on crack in paint-splattered vintage bell bottoms and a frayed sequin halter top, shrieking, "Stop telling me what to do!" An anti-style-bullying magazine for boomer/Gen X women gone wild, and a sexy, fun flirtation with the wild side for armchair fashionistas. Ba-bye retirement planning, hello hellcats.

I'm going to hook this up with:

Anne at SpyGirl, 52 Pick-me-up: Aqua, Vanity, Transformation

Patti at Not Dead Yet Style, Visible Monday

Cathering at Not Dressed as Lamb, #iwillwearwhatilike. 

I haven't been making the rounds as I hoped - too much work!! But I glance through. You guys are schtellar. You're all schtars, I tell you! It's the colour on the inside that counts!

Lurching forward with up and down hair

This is what I wore to the "Putting Together the Big Crane Down the Street" show.

I hadn't booked tickets but I got lucky and scored a VIP curbside spot. 

Lots of heavy metal and hard hats - post-modern constructionism.

The road was shut down and everything! (I see you rolling your eyes - don't think I can't.)

Then I went to an eco boutique, where my personal shopper browsed the $5 rack. 

And then I had coffee and a crueller served to me by a cadre of attentive servers.

And I drew a turnip head in my journal. It's a life of glamour, yesh.

It's all about perspective.

The torso was the best part of this outfit so that's all I'm going to show you. 

The T-shirt is one I did with googly eyes and it's a farked necklace.

The black part is my ancient dickie untucked. 

My photos sucked big time, but that was my face today. Bathroom selfie.

WHITE EYE SHADOW & NUDE LIPSTICK

Starkish. Bemused/perplexed. This photo should rotate and speak like a robot.

That's what happens when I let my hair down.

The boots I wore a couple days ago - the lawn-mower runaways. 

They are fancy-schmancy bought new a few years ago on super discount. Maybe green wasn't selling?

This outfit looks better in motion. And this is what happens when I let my hair up.

How's THAT...?

"Wanna buy a mitten clip?"

I spotted this dress on the $5 rack last week. Love that mod vibe 

which I boosted with quick mitten clipping to go mini-high and to show off those freaky tights. 

I'm also wearing my black and white spirograph turtleneck under the dress and

earrings from a whack-load of new big ones I bought.

Tip:  Big Earrings = Instant Rock Star

But some of you already know that. Vix, Mis Papelicos...

 Great coat action. I got to whip it - whip it good!

I love the way my left boot up there is so focused. Artistry, my friends. And in one take.

With a self-timer. While walking.

Who else could have focused with such absolute precision on that one spot? 

I put the above photo on Instagram. I was falling over when the shutter snapped.

Clearly, I've got nothing for you. Nothing. My creativity train stops at my station, blowing all its whistles, then lurches ahead, then stops, blows, and lurches. Is it too much to ask for a little synchronicity here?!

Hope you're well, doing what you do.

I've got to hook this up to:
Anne at SpyGirl, 52 Pick-me-up: Green Acorn/Victim/Empowerment
Patti at Visible Monday, Not Dead Yet Style, where the party never stops.

My coats made me do it

I was leaping at the courthouse. You'd be forgiven for thinking I'd been hauled in by the fashion police for wearing garish clashing patterns, but even if I had, one magic word whispered in my accuser's ear would have sprung me free: Versace. It can soothe even the most ruffled fashionista. I'd keep quiet that these pants were thrifted for around $25. And that I could care less what brand they are. 

As for the leaping, this crazy-ass coat is hopped up on circles and stripes and some serious red. Of course I'm airborne! On me it's a goofy/cool femme fatale coat that says jump, vamp, drink martinis, throw caramel corn in the air and catch it with your mouth even though you know it will probably stick to your eyelids instead. It says drive a Bugatti with the top down in winter. Okay! Clearly my lifestyle needs to catch up with my wardrobe. 

Su Bennett, my mad stylist partner on the recent fashion show, gave me this ga-ga-gaaageous vintage beauty. Such glee! She is a self-confessed fairy-clothes-mother. No kidding. Thank you, Su!! Below I am undercover like Johnny English (James Bond spoof starring Rowan Atkinson).

The leaping was also instrumental in scientifically testing my new got2b hair product. I'd give it an A-, which is not bad considering my former got2b (A+) had 15 to 20 years of aging to achieve it's gluey superiority. In another ten years this new one should be just right.

I'm wearing the coat with my favourite graphic T - "Dressed to PISS YOU OFF" - custom-made by another favourite woman, Suzanne Carillo. She gave it to me when we met the first time, with Sue of A Colourful Canvas, almost a year ago (here), although it feels like I've known her and Sue forever.

I'm also wearing thrifted Miu Miu boots, a black under-T, and my magic loupe from O. (O says thank you for your comments on his rings!) The only label on the coat says ILGWU, International Ladies' Garment Workers' Union of the US, size 10.

And below, what I wore the next day. The graffiti behind me says "The goal isn't to last forever. The goal is to create something that will." It's a quote from Chuck Palahniuk, the man who wrote Fight Club, which was made into a movie.

Wearing: thrifted muppet coat, thrifted silk velvet scarf, thrifted pants, but the chenille top was from H&M - I sometimes get supplies there for farking. So far I've only  "adjusted" this one around the neckline.

Detail of the silk scarf. An elegant woman, a bamboo grove, a full moon. You can seen the sheen on it, which makes it difficult to photograph. It's slidey and ultra-soft. The tag says 100% silk. Thrifted.

I'm linking something up to:

1. Patti at Not Dead Yet Style for her Visible Monday, as usual - thank you Patti! 
2. Catherine's #iwillwearwhatilike at Not Dressed as Lamb when it goes live. This week's prompt is faux fur, which I remembered after I took these photos. Good timing.
3. Anne at SpyGirl, 52 Pick-me-up with the theme Reflection/Integration. These outfits have a bit of both.

A: But why is she laughing like that?
B: She better be careful she doesn't sprain anything.
A: These narcissistic bloggers, I just don't know what they're thinking.
B: Hmm.
A: I wonder does her husband know what she's up to?
[silent pause]
A: Let's check out the next blog.
B: Oooh, yes! More tea?
A: Lovely, with a wee splash of a little extra maybe...?
B: Coming right up.

Happy upholstery coat and alley opera coat

Why am I smiling? Because I finally mastered how to fake it - even in public with a tripod and people watching. But, really, why? 

I suppose because I like the effect. I look happy. Smiling lifts the face and is a welcoming expression. "Oh, she looks fun!" I certainly recoil violently at the idea that one should smile for any reason. Clearly, in high-style/fashion photos one shouldn't smile - fashion is serious - which would make this smile a little toothy finger to the sucked-in-cheeks crowd. Heh.

You must have noticed that you usually only see women smiling/laughing or dancing in media when they're advertising cleaning products and diet yogurt? Would it surprise you to know that my hands are in my pockets to hide the callouses I get from gripping the Swiffer handle (dusting product) and the meat cleaver while preparing gourmet meals for O?

My sleeves are extra long to conceal the effects of gently sponging our dishes to sparkling newness each day and painstakingly Q-tipping the Silver and venetian blinds because that's just what one does in a phantom smile life. 

The outfit: 

• jacquard upholstery "Mad Hatter" jacket 
• mega-over-sized silk blouse 
• drop-crotch high-waisted ankle-zip pants 
• dangly earrling
• granny shoes from Sheila of Ephemera hee hee thanks 
• black knee socks

Usually a happy expression has wider appeal, like a pink pony (bleh), but you can't beat a gritty bitch look in my books. It's another finger to trendy cheek-sucking, although I confess that I enjoy cheek-sucking on occasion as well. Why limit myself? 

I wore both of these looks last week. On the day I took these alley shots I was feeling raw and introspective. I tried the big smile, I tried real hard, but even faking failed.

The outfit:

• long black velvet opera coat
• Converse laceless runners
• patched jeans
• tie-dye shirt with studs on the shoulders
• wrap belt from Kunming in China
• maxi cardigan
• big scarf
• magic loup, omnipresent

I'm a vampire again. I don't care if Halloween is over. I took a selfie and there was no one there.

I'm linking this post up to:

• Patti's VISIBLE MONDAY at Not Dead Yet Style;
• Catherine's #iwillwearwhatilike at Not Dressed as Lamb;
• Anne's 52 Pick-me-up: Lemonade/Prayer/Clarity at SpyGirl. 

FINALLY, although the photo below is too grainy (I was farking with my camera), this is one of my favourite shots of the day, mostly because of the guy in the doorway behind me. Hahaha! Are you smiling? Have a good week everyone!

Chipmunk Blogger Country-Western Blues

"Ooo-eee! You hair smells like stinky socks!" That's a phrase you don't want to hear, which is why, when I was stuffing the crown of this wig, I used clean knee socks, not soggy or crunchy ones. If I don't put them in there, this beehive hair hat falls smack in my face, which could be useful on a bad face day, but not on a day I'm wearing false eyelashes.

I dressed this morning clutching that free pass that comes with Halloween, the thought that I can wear whatever the feck I want, not that I don't usually, but I felt greater safety pushing my boundaries, which for me included wearing this fabulous beehive wig. 

Surveying the results, I decided I was Serena, a guest character on the American TV series Bewitched from the '60s/'70s. She was the dark-haired fun-loving witch cousin of the show's star, Samantha, the suburban blonde witch married to a bungling ad executive. 

Except for the wig and the heavy-handed makeup, this look is not terribly out of the ordinary. Check out the wig's pointy splendour in the photo below. Don't you just swoon for it? One part hair, one part sock. One of the best compliments I got from a stranger today was, "Wow, you look awesome, but your costume is bordering normal." 

This Serena look would have fit well with my new country and western music video but I went with my fall-back: sequins and earrings. A really, really stupid song about blogging that I made up lodged in my head and I needed to purge it fast so I spit it up in a little video. 

I had grandiose plans, shooting here, shooting there, close-ups, far-outs, and, as a result, I preemptively exhausted myself. So I present this modest ditty, 41sec. Hats off to people with real musical talent!

THE LAST LINE IS TOTALLY THE BEST THING I'VE EVER DONE. I'm very proud of that. 

*** Chipmunk Blogger *** 

 *** Country & Western Blues ***

And more gratuitous shots of Serena. How could I not include them? I had too much fun wearing this. 

The full ensemble above. Jeez, I look normal there. Who knew those dials and knobs on my camera were not just decorative. Yes, I tried a new setting at ISO eleventy-eleven, but I don't like the grainy quality. I guess I'll have to fark around with that stuff some more.

And that's a selfie I took at the coffee shop with my standard camera setting. Double glasses again: sunglasses in my hair and reading glasses on my face for journaling. See the cute doggie print on the scarf? Click for bigger.

That's all. I'm linking this post up to:

• Patti's VISIBLE MONDAY at Not Dead Yet Style;
• Catherine's #iwillwearwhatilike at Not Dressed as Lamb;
• Judith's monthly Hat Attack at Style Crone;
• Anne's 52 Pick-me-up: Sunflower/Joy at SpyGirl. I have the joy part covered for sure, and there are spots of sunflower in my scarf. 

Thank you for all these parties, you wild women! I'm bringing my Halloween candy. Get ready for a sugar high.

UH-OH, SHE HAS A BAD CASE OF...

BEING BAD.

       SHE IS BAD       

I'M OVER 53. I've EARNED ME THE

RIGHT TO SOME BIG BAD - 

we're talkin' 'tude.

I SPIT BAD FLOWERS. DON'T TRIP ON THEM;

MAKE A BOUQUET?

I'M WEARING CLOTHES. SOME THRIFTED, SOME GIFTS. ALL TERRIBLY, HORRIBLY BAD. 

Bad plaid. Very, very bad. Baaad.

say it like a goat

worn to the nordstrom opening, sep 19 post - 

farked tartan jacket, big bad pants.

adding to bella's linkup for plaidurday at citizen rosebud 

(edit: the link is not on anymore. oh well.)

AND

THERE'S CARROT IN MY SCARF/WRAP, MAYBE EVEN 

STUCK IN MY TEETH, SO I'M LINKING 

TO ANNE'S 52 PICK-ME-UP: CARROT/PERSEVERENCE

AT SPYGIRL

______________________________________

THIS IS A NO-GUILT POST. FEEL FREE NOT TO COMMENT. 

TOO MANY POSTS TO KEEP UP. 

Edit: I had a birthday during 2015, but not terribly, horribly recently. All I can say is I'm not a Libra. I've just been thinking about age lately.