Today I woke up wearing my husband's "I'm a Pepper" t-shirt. It's large, short, and—at best—unflattering. I work at home, so I decided I might as well have a frump day. It's Monday after all, and in my fuzzy thoughts I figured I'd shower eventually. The road to gross is paved with hygienic intentions.
But in all of my morning logic fog, the most illogical conclusion I came to was to choose the snowman sweatpants over the giant black ones. Why? Because the red spots in the pants go with the red shirt.
It was later in the morning when I looked down at my self and thought hey, this outfit really does match that I realized that I am in grave danger of never looking good again.