So yesterday was the first day of school. 7th grade. Gross. I'm no longer the "cute" little girl you all thought I was, now I'm just a catty loud pre-teen. WHAPAA. At least now I'm not the youngest (or shortest!) in the school.
That's right. HOLD EM LIKE YOU MEAN IT. And if you refuse I'll do to you what my dog did to this random doll we had lying around (true story):
And some type of metaphor for me improving my grades:
*2nd picture-reason I do not do cross countryEDIT: Whoops, forgot the outfit details! (and yes, this was what I wore first day)
Top and skirt, thrift. Belt, childhood closet.
Sara brought up an interesting question about whether teachers read my blog. I doubt any of them know about it *cross fingers* but if they started reading it I would probably make a new one. That's reasonable, right? My sister said that her French teacher reads my blog because she found it from an article I was in and is actually into fashion. She even asked my sister to tell the class the URL! Thank you dear sister for keeping your yap shut for once.
Nice and Shiny asked what kids at school think of how I dress. There are the Abercrombie-brainwashed people who snort and look me up and down (one of which I am very ready to explode on. "YOU KNOW WHAT CAROLINE?-not the blogger one-I'M JUST GLAD YOU'RE ALWAYS TURNED AROUND FLIRTING WITH RYAN SO I CAN ONLY SEE THE BACK OF YOUR HEAD!!" that took me like 2 days to come up with. Sly, I know.) but I have actually heard some pretty nice things. Today this girl said my clothes are weird but I'm the only one who can pull them off, which is sweet I guess. It's mostly the douche "popular" guys who make fun though, and luckily the guys in my classes are mostly geeks who couldn't care less about appearances.
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