Confessions: I have a terrible sense of fashion.

I know, I know.

A blogger with no fashion sense.

Sad, but true.

I mean, I can do makeup and stuff, but . . . well, no, because I can't really do hair . . .

I can do makeup.

But I'm more than a little lost when it comes to mixing and matching clothes.

Now my sister's really good at that.

And she has this beautiful, long hair that does whatever she wants it to.

Except that she tries to curl it and it's fine so it doesn't hold a curl, and I used to straighten mine, but it's thick, so it doesn't really hold a straight.

Basically, she's a brunette Rapunzel:

and I'm a blonde Merida.

Anhyoo, my sister's really good at clothes.

She looks cute in just about anything, and can pull off things I never could.

And she can pull off black eye liner.

That makes me just a wee bit jealous.

But I'll gladly admit that I've stolen more than a few ideas from my sister's outfits.

. . . Not at the same time she's wearing them, because that would be a little embarrassing for her, I think, but I have.

She brought the scarf fever to our house.

And the boot fever.

And a few other fevers that haven't quite caught on yet, but give it time.

They will.

But yeah, I'm just not very good at the whole fashion thing.

I could sell you on just about any cosmetic product ever made, but let's just say I'm sorta glad my sister's better at that than me.

Because it's better to get killer deals on cute clothes than mediocre deals on mine.

A Duck Day

I know it's unusual for me to do two posts in one day, but it's my blog and

.

So.

I feel like this has been my motto today:

.

"Why?" you ask?

Okay, you didn't ask, but I'm anticipating your asking.

Because I just knew it was going to rain today.

And I wore flats.

My feet were SOAKED within an hour.

My jeans were SOAKED six inches on the bottom.

I made sure my umbrella was in the car when I left the house . . . and then forgot it in the car at school.

I ended up sloshing through grass and unavoidable puddles.

Ugh.

I love beaches.

And pools.

And water in general.

But not rain.

Not while I'm not inside.

Because I do care.

And I'm not a duck.

But renaming this "The Daft Duck" might get the point across.

I won't; I rather like this name.

But still. . .

Fool me once . . .

Okay Beaufort girlies, listen up: I don't know where you do your shoe shopping, and on some level I don't really care, but I've got to tell you about this one store (which is kind of ironic, because I don't plan on actually naming this store). 

There's this store in Beaufort that has really cute shoes. And at good prices, too.

No, it's not Wal-Mart.

However, something weird happened the last two times I was there, probably within the same two weeks.

Allow me to start at the beginning: I wanted some brown flats, so when I saw a cute pair, I got the box that said 9 down because I (usually) wear a 9.

I tried both the shoes on, and they both fit.

That would be a given, except for one small factoid: one was a 9, the other was an 8 1/2. 

And my feet are normal, by the way. 

I put the bottoms together, and they looked exactly the same to me.

I figured the 8 1/2 was a misprint and took the box to the register to check out. 

They wouldn't sell it to me because (logically) if I had two sizes, somebody else had two sizes, and if they returned one, they'd need the other.

I ended up leaving with 8 1/2's (which fit perfectly fine), and thought it was a freak occurrence. 

Wrong. 

I went today for some black flats and wanted a 9. 

Once again, there was a 9 and an 8 1/2!

And once again, I ended up leaving with an 8 1/2!

So, for those of y'all in Beaufort . . . check your shoes before you buy them!

(Also because they might be two different - but similar - styles. That's happened to me before too. And yes, that was at Wal-Mart.)