Yesterday, my friend and I were innocently shopping in Forever21 when some random lady came up to me and said: “Has anyone ever told you that you look like Chelsea Clinton?”
Her: “Well, add a little red in your hair and you’d look just like her.”
So, I do whatever I normally do when situations like these arise. I called my mom.
Me: “Mom, some lady told me that I look like Chelsea Clinton.”
Mom: “What!? She is one of the most homeliest people. Andra, you definitely do not look like Chelsea Clinton.”
Didn’t that lady know that it has been my very shallow life goals to not look like Hilary Clinton? (I’m serious. Ask anyone who has seen me try on a blazer.)
Being told I look like Chelsea Clinton is NOT a compliment.
(I know, this is not a very nice post. I apologize. Maybe this is one of those times when “if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all” applies. Too bad—I’m posting this anyway and blaming it on my lack of filter. THIS IS REAL LIFE, PEOPLE.)
P.S. I’m never exercising again. My roommate and I did these exercises we found in our suitemate’s Cosmo. That was on Monday. It is Wednesday and I’m seriously considering cutting the thigh muscles out of my leg. (But that’s bad idea, right?) At any rate, stairs are my current enemy.
P.P.S. My phone screen cracked while I was on fall retreat with my youth group. (It was my fault. I was trying to jump and pull on a tree branch and my phone fell out of my bag and onto the sidewalk. I’m not the brightest crayon.) Anyway, I ordered an iPhone, so hopefully I like it. Technology and I don’t really get along, so here’s to hoping this works out better than last time I got a new phone and couldn’t figure out how to put contacts in it for months.