So Long, Joe

I often feel a little envious of men's clothing. Their comfy shoes, their easy slacks, the fun ties. I would love to wear a different tie each day. Also their bagless-ness. I would LOVE to just shove my wallet, keys, and phone into my pocket and go. Not to mention the way comfy boxers, and the loose jeans and t-shirts, and the long shorts, and SERIOUSLY: the easy short hair. If I cut my hair that short I'd look ridiculous. No, instead I am faced with (albeit better than a century ago) stiff heels, tight pants, big purses, constricting dresses, frizzy and untameable hair, NYLONS FOR GOD'S SAKE, uncomfy and impractical underwear, and above all else, by far the worst part of my day when I put it on and fasten the cold, metal hooks against my skin in the morning: THE BRA. Need I say more.

I think the honeymoon is over between me and Trader Joe's. It just...started going south, between the colour-turning/funny-tasting cheese, and the moldy raviolis I had to return yesterday. Also their selection is too small. I may go back for meat sometimes, but other than that and being my Oregon Chai lifeline, I think it's Splitsville. Sorry Joe.