My thinspiration arrived in the mail today, aka the Victoria’s Secret holiday catalog. TSM.

The only person who judges harder than me is my mother. TSM.

Batting your eyelashes when you have something rude to say. TSM.

I want to see him just so he can see that I’m ignoring him. TSM.

Knowing that your father would weep if he ever saw what you’re wearing on Halloween. TSM.

Coordinating costumes with your little. TSM.

Spending a ridic amount of money on formal and not remembering a single thing. TSM.

Having to hide your cutest hairbows so that your sisters don’t steal them. TSM.

Warning: any cooler left unattended will be painted and not returned. TSM.

Halloween may be an exuse to dress slutty, sweetie, but never to act it. TSM.

Kim Kardashian’s wedding special was on my DVR longer than the marriage lasted. TSM.

Just because I don’t like her doesn’t mean she can not like me too. TSM.

“I’m a mouse…Duh.” TSM.

When I grow up I’ll be just like Santa: work one day per year and spend the other 364 judging others. TSM.

Instantly annoyed by people with bad posture. TSM.

I attend a weekly fashion show, also known as chapter meeting. TSM.

If I delete it from my phone there’s no evidence it ever happened. TSM.

I’m wayyyy too pretty for this place. TSM.

Using your blow dryer to expediate your craft’s drying time. TSM.

My standards are like my hair. They start high, but get lower throughout the evening. TSM.