So, remember how I was going on about how I’m probably the only fifteen-year-old in this generation of fifteen-year-olds right now that absolutely hates shopping? Like, I think I prefer to wear my underwear in public?
For two weeks now, guys, I have known to wear to my grandmother’s memorial. It’s tasteful, I don’t look dumb, and it’s the one thing in my closet that isn’t a wife-beater or has skulls on it. I really went all out on this.
My mom decides YESTERDAY MORNING she doesn’t like my dress, and I have to find something new! I told her if she doesn’t like it, SHE can buy me another one, which ended up with me spending my entire fucking evening at Nordstrom’s Rack trying on every stupid dress (some of them I can’t believe they let girls wear, even)- goddamn, I hate really hate it.
She ended up making me get two and I’ll make my aunt decide when we get there. But you don’t understand, I’m never going to forgive her for this. I honestly would’ve done my Geometry homework over that.