Bar Exam Neurosis

Let's be clear: I don't use my blawg to create a persona. I am true to myself, and am perfectly fine being super ridiculous and nerdy and cheesy. 

So I'm gonna drop some truth on you right now: when it comes to test-taking, I am a NEUROTIC BITCH. Not like, oh, kinda crazy and don't bathe when it comes time to take the test. Like, have to regurgitate said test back in my hotel room so I can purge it from my mind forever. 

Yeah, you heard that right. I rewrite all the questions I can remember from the exam. Because I'm fucking crazy. (Although I would rather be crazy than think it's acceptable NOT TO BATHE WHEN I'M GOING TO BE IN PUBLIC.)

Proof is in the (cray) pudding. And my neurosis is especially evident in the fact that no,
you can't read my writing because I resized the photo to prevent such things from happening. 

Today, I managed to remember 94 questions from each session. No, I will not give them to you. No, I do not plan on disseminating them to anyone. I will probably burn them after this fucking bar exam, because really, they serve no purpose to me. They're just the byproduct of mental cleansing. 

And yet, I feel no less crazy now than when I started. 

(Don't judge me.)

(My mother does that enough for the both of us)

Confessions that no one should be surprised about....

I'm about to drop a little bit of truth on you.....

I dress like a 90 year old woman.

No, really. On my first date with my boyfriend of three years, he made a quip about me suffocating him with my "Bill Cosby sweater." (And here I was thinking I looked snazzy.) When I was a kid, I used to circle turtlenecks and those shirts made out of the long underwear material in the JC Penny catalog. And then I wore them every day. One Christmas, I distinctly remember begging my mother for weeks for a pair of penny loafers.

(I'm going to let that soak in for a minute.)

In high school, I wasn't much better. I shopped at Goodwill. I chose things that made me laugh, and made others laugh. I didn't give a flying flip about what others thought. (And still don't, honestly, which isn't always necessarily a good thing.) I opted for outfits that were outlandish. Garish. And I still loved turtlenecks.

Nowadays, I resemble a librarian. The unsexy kind. I live in cableknit sweaters. Hugemongeous cardigans. Sweater-set cardigans. I layer them over camis. And over turtlenecks (obviously).

I love fashion. I really do. I like trendy clothes, and cool makeup, and funky styles. I follow fashion bloggers and drool over their outfits. I participated in pageants and have the 29 LBDs and 50+ other cocktail dresses to prove it. I wore false eyelashes. Rocked the five inch pumps. Know how to dress for every occasion. (And I'm honestly not making that up.) I own no less than 13 Antonio Melani Suits. But when it comes to picking up an outfit for my day-to-day non-career wear? I'm cheap. I hate spending money. And I hate cheap clothing. Which is a catch-22. You can't hate them both.

Which means I'll probably die wearing the same cardigan I almost suffocated my boyfriend with on our first date.

But at least I'll die warm.