Even though most of my girlfriends would have a hemorrhage of shame if they knew this about me, I'll admit it here: I happen to like Kmart a lot, and I have a lot of their pieces. There, I said it. My deep dark secret. Diary, I'll let your tear ducts dry up first before I spill anything more.
I mean, most of my clothes are what you would consider high end fashion concocted from a wide range of fabrics, from the finest high end lycras to guilt free lamé, but sometimes I like to let go a little, and put on my Kmart sweats. That's all. And I mean, only around the house. I would never step foot into the outside world looking like a poor girl's dog chewed barbie. As if.
Also, I admit it, my diet leans heavily on sodas. So be it. I have an addiction. I've heard that there's a detox centre for the carbonation inclined, something of a Betty Ford clinic for soda fiends, and it runs in like the ten thousands a week. Apparently, it also makes you shed pounds faster than a lie detector test during a drinking binge. Or so they say. Not that I've ever been to rehab, but you know, never say never. I mean, it almost does something for your status, doesn't it?
