Luke, I'm not your father.

 shoes: steve madden. cutoffs: express. undershirt: downeast basics. shirt: american eagle. bracelet: forever21.

Jumping-off point for this ensemble was the fact that I'd shaved my legs. Plus it was hot. Got ourselves a two-fer in the Why I Will Wear Shorts Today department. The only protest, as far as I could tell, is the fact that my legs are a pale shade of white that hovers uncomfortably between "ghost" and "dead."

To which protestations I say: Bring on the death march then. And also fame, because I'm pretty sure my legs inspired the pasty makeup job of Darth Vadar's mask-removed face near the end of Return of the Jedi. Which, in my humble opinion, was and remains the best Star Wars movie of them all. Mostly because the ewoks are cute. And Jabba the Hut is can't-look-away revolting.

I sound like a Trekkie, don't I. Er, not a "trekkie," actually, but rather I sound like whatever the name would be for the Star Wars version of an obsessed fanatic. I'm really not, and the fact that I have no intergalactic name for myself, or accompanying powers, proves it.

And, although I may or may not use the quote, "Do or do not; there is no try" on a weekly basis in casual conversation, I can safely assure you that it's almost always in reference to my hearty consumption of entire bags of pnut m&ms...

Happy Monday.

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