I must admit that most of the time I have no clue what the hell is going on. My life is basically summed up by Winona Ryder’s face during the SAG awards. Does anyone else ever feel this way?

For instance, I have no idea when I developed this affectionate relationship with fashion but we sort of, really, really, like each other. Enough to blog about it, of course.

But also I just don’t know ANYTHING about fashion. The history, and the fashion trends, and the ruffles, and all the silliness? I mean I guess I enjoy the silliness but what am I supposed to do with all the technical aspects?

Would diving into a seriously committed relationship with fashion really be all that worth it? Or should we just try to work out the whole friends with benefits ordeal?

I kept thinking this while I was at a medical convention the past few days for work. I was terrified of all the lifelike mannequins, the very vivid IUD simulation, and being taken inside a knee through a pair virtual goggles. Note: I was not warned I’d be taken inside a knee. It was not fun. It is scary and very unsettling.

As unsettling and horrifying as being inside of a knee was, I realized fashion is also a little disturbing and frightening. I shouldn’t force myself to dwell over the latest medical technology or the history of every single fashion trend. Putting on a few stripes, some ruffles, and polka dots together should be as predominately exciting and uncomplicated as agreeing to a strictly amicable relationship with the included benefits.

So as of now, my style and I are playing games, keeping things spontaneous, and drinking tons of beer until further notice.

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