(no subject)

Angela says, as we walk hand-in-hand up the stairs after school: "How do you manage to wear a skirt that touches the floor and still look like a dyke?"
I say, with no rancor, "Beats me. I think it's the hat. It's not the shirt, which definitly wants to show more cleavage than it's allowed to."


*hits the pause button*
To elaborate on the clothes: A black shirt with 3-quarter-length sleeve that has a fairly large scoopneck in front, with lacing from the neck to where your ribcage arches up. A long wine-colored skirt, with embroidery at the waist, covered by my shirt. Brown clogs with heels. Hat - if you've seen it, you'll recognize it from the description. Brown, soft, newsboy hat, the one that doesn't have a really definite shape, and has a brim with a snap on it. My hair was tucked up underneath it. If you've seen it, you've probably stolen it too. I had a green plaid scarf wound round my neck at one point too.
*hits the play button*

I continue, "Or maybe it's because I walk very forward, like a guy, even in heels."
Angela snickers, and reminds me, "Or maybe it's the walking-down-the-hall-holding-my-hand thing?"
I say, "Could be."


I <3 Angela.