Vivian Westwood belt, markings on skin care of fat vs skinny pants.

To think for the whole week i was feeling queasy, i thought it was the flu again, blocked sinuses, nausea, loss of appetite, loss of mojo, loss of interest in anything remotely fashionable, i knew something was serious.
However today, i managed to drag myself out to Latteria and after a serious caffine fix (their coffee seems to get stronger each time) and banana bread i head to blue spinach to check out some vintage clothes, that dior-homme jackets still there, $700 on discount but my fashion psychic connection was feeling something, somewhere else. I head over to White-picket fence , that cute guy was there, the one who sold me the grey jacket i’m wearin, “looks good on u “ he smiled, omg i nearly creamed my new calvin klein underwear, i just wanted to rip his scarf off and lick his caucasian tits but fashion comes first.
There were these two lesbians there, and it was like, i dunno, but what the fuck are u doing looking like a highschool boy?
As i was about to leave i eyed this rope thing , upon closer inspection it was a Vivian Westwood belt! My thighs had anglomania-precum oozing down.
I had to buy it.

I couldn’t contain my excitement and had to run into forbes and burton for a gin and tonic
“double?”
“yes, please tara, i’m over this detox business”

But i had to order food, it isn’t a bar, so i crumbled the apple and cinnimon friand outside whilst these yellow-eyed starlings pecked at it. I don’t like birds but for once i was grateful the friand looked used.

I ventured down to wall, thought abit of posing and another coffee was needed and stopped by a tobacconist .
My detox has truly ended but after a few good smokes i was feeling myself again, i was alive, the world was crystal clear with taste of hunger tripping on its edges.

I’m horny as a well-stroked rabbit, i may end up eating myself.