Cheating, and the cheating cheaters who cheat.

I'm not going to try to talk my way out of this one.

I cheated.

And not just by having a clairvoyant boyfriend or living in a city where it's pretty easy to get by on previously owned wares (more on that later).

No, that wasn't enough for me.

I gladly accepted free Roxy stuff this week. Because they offered. Because I could. And because I really "needed" a few things. Like this enormous backpack I like to hide behind when I feel guilty:



(Did you know that backpacks are useful, comfortable AND they keep your hands free? I was not aware of this, having not owned one since I was an Advanced Placement automaton. But I'm old now, so sometimes I wear flat shoes and carry a backpack. Next I'll be shaving the whiskers off my chin and using rubber bands to keep my support hose up.)

That blue sleeve you see is part of my new hoodie. Which I wore with my new luxury house pants last night. After I took off my new wide-leg jeans. And ogled the new summer schmatta I'll wear in San Diego this weekend.

I know. I know. At the time, it seemed totally legal, being that it was technically a "trade" for copywriting services rendered. I can see now that this was my id getting the better of me.