THEM PRETTY SHITTY DAYS

Irreparable content to you all.

 Today is my 30th blog post. Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!! I can’t believe I lasted this long. And for my 30th blog post and suddenly 50 Instagram followers, I give you a pretty yet shitty blog post. Enjoy.

30th blog post

This is such a girl related topic but I think it applies to guys as well. I’m not sure though. But I believe it does. Does it? Any guys that read my blogs and can avidly agree that we all have pretty and shitty days? What I don’t mean is how well the day was going for you: you woke up, your teeth suddenly turned white, the iron finally ceased its rebellion and your clothes finally look smoothened out, you got to work and Susan called in sick, then you find out you got promoted, your five year long boyfriend finally proposed, but then you kicked the bucket only to wake up as Beyonce and you divorce Jay Z and marry your grieving boyfriend as Beyonce.

bey1

I can imagine Beyonce showing up at my door in her husky voice saying, “WannaBe, it’s me, your reincarnated boyfriend, in Beyonce’s body”. I would not sign a pre-nup and I get to be featured in her next upcoming album as her new lover.

What this blog post strives to describe is that fleeting moment you walk up to the mirror, the narcissistic version of you appears and whispers the following words:

Hello beautiful goddess whose name is too beautiful to be named but the very ground you walk on inspires many to be more they can ever be, because your beauty and grace, Oh cherished one, enrages the female portion of the human species, oh how they should all strive to copy you, for that flatters your otherworldly self and I cannot believe your waist is that slim, Fashion Nova models cannot dare to compare and did I mention how you sparkle in the darkness? There is no light but your highlight shames the sun-kissed of men, for you are the muse of many poems and songs, the fall of many men and the envy of those who cannot be named but their names start with K.

self love

I’m telling you, it is 8 p.m. I just looked at myself in the mirror and I realized I look great. I don’t know how or why I came to this epic conclusion, but on this solid night, I look too good to be true. Tonight is my pretty day or night. I hope it extends to tomorrow.

However some previous nights ago, my shitty day made itself known. I was haggard, tired, bags under my eyes, broken nail (still there) ,untamed eyebrows and a terribly forced smile. My shitty days are the best though. Why you ask? Because my pretty self on the pretty days has set certain expectations. On my pretty days, I expect my lipstick to last through the day, my eyebrows not to unflatter themselves or my outfit to go ruffled up by mysterious weather events. On my pretty days I expect to walk on air and be that girl in the movie where people (men and women alike) wonder who the hell she is. I want my walks to be in slow motion and graceful (I trip everywhere), my hair should be flying in the wind and my nails popping while ONE by VHS Collection plays in the background (great song). None of these expectations are met.

vhs

On my shitty days. There’s no such thing as elaborate expectations with up-coming rock bands. I trip-walk, look at the cloudy sky, check my horoscope for any unwelcome events (my love life has truly perished at this point) and pray that I survive this day without one of my braids falling off. It is an unpredictable cycle of events in my 21 year old life. Because right now, I feel pretty enough to take a selfie but not stupid enough to do it. I do not comply to stupidity. Not that taking selfies is stupid. My Adonis-like self in a selfie is just plain absurd. A picture cannot capture this beauty because tonight is my pretty night.

trip

Stay beautiful dear reader.

Regards,

The Beloved One, WannaBeSage.

INSTA

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