Luckily, these trousers are deceiving. I have Helena Bonham-Carter-eqse (HBC) hair (though it is admirably tamed, sort of) today. It is Bride of Frankenstein hair. It is epic.
The apparent normalness of my trousers reminded me of something I came up with this summer: the ugliness of the elastic waistband of your soul.
Oh, and in other news... I seem to have a boyfriend. Yep. I have reacquired my beloved Mr. Cereal. No more excruciating first dates for the foreseeable future. I am ecstatic. Not over the lack of first dates, which is great, but because I genuinely love Mr. Cereal. And he does not mind (and indeed enjoys) if I talk about genocide, Stalinworld, etc. I am a terrifically lucky girl, even if only for a brief time. And I am happy.
