I Can't, Vol. 56

I CAN'T

with these Yellow Target sandals. I took a poll last week via Instagram stories on whether I should get the brown or yellow in this adorable, strappy platform sandal from Target and, even though the majority said brown, I listened to my heart and went with yellow and ya know what? I'm glad I did because HOW CUTE AND HAPPY ARE THESE SANDALS?! I have so many brown summer kicks and ultimately felt like a pop of the right color could be something my wardrobe needs, and I was right. Two things about these sandals: I've heard the back strap rubs a little rudely at your heel, so I preemptively applied bandaids to wear them and lemme tell ya — my heels are good as gold. Also — and this is very *IMPORTANT* — order a 1/2 size down. Sorry I yelled. I just don't want you to screw this up.

I CAN'T

with "This Is America." I just cannot.

I mean. I'm not even sure what to say to you if you haven't watched this music video at least 5 times by now. Do you hate good music and talent and incredible directing and writing and bigger, make-you-think messages? Well. Then you suck. As The New Yorker wrote: "The video has already been rapturously described as a powerful rally cry against gun violence, a powerful portrait of black-American existentialism, a powerful indictment of a culture that circulates videos of black children dying as easily as it does videos of black children dancing in parking lots." It's a work of art, truly. Plus, the beat itself doesn't suck. I've watched it close to 15 times and I'm always left asking out loud to an empty room: How is Donald Glover? How can someone be so talented at so many things? Acting, comedy, singing, dancing, producing, directing, writing, whoknowswhatelse-ing? I just can't believe it's the same goofy dude from "Community" all those years ago, making us chuckle with silly bits like Troy and Abed in the Morning. Talk about a come up. Also, I may or may not have tried to do a few of his dance moves from the video at the gym yesterday while no one was around and looked like a awkward wannabe doused in a concerning amount of sweat. So.

I CAN'T

handle creepy old men. I really can't, guys. And I'm not talking about 60-70 year olds. I'm talking 80+ year olds who use their old age and aloofness to act like they're just being "cute" and friendly when we all know that they're still men at heart. They know exactly what they're doing, and I. DON'T. LIKE IT. Example: I was at the mall last week ordering a smoothie from Juice Bar (which isn't a place you have to actually walk into. It's out in the mall. A walk-by stop-by, if you will). I paid in cash, thanked the woman, turned around, and a man who was pushing 85 appeared out of nowhere and said directly to me "You get everything you need?" Like, WHAT? What are you even asking?! THAT'S your line? What does it even mean? Yep, sure did! Actually, wait. No. They couldn't sell me a sexy, old weiner. Got one on you by chance? LIKE. WHAT DO THEY WANT FROM ME?

They say whatever odd, non-sensical thing they want to PYTs and we're supposed to giggle it off and be kind? Nah. It's creepy AF.

I CAN'T

with the Met Gala. I just don't get it? Like, I have no idea what it is or why it is. Really, I don't. Can someone tell me? I understand that it's this super high brow, over-the-top, themed, anything-goes fashion night, but what HAPPENS there? Like, what's going on inside? Is it an award show? Is there music? Food? Drinks? Is it literally just a bunch of celebs and the like dressing up like they do, getting boatloads of pictures taken so they can immediately post every single one of them to Instagram (looking at you, Mindy Kaling), then stand around inside oo'ing and ah'ing over each others' bizarro costumes for a few hours until they go home and spend double the amount of time taking it all off? I know I could Google "WTF is the Met Gala," but I have better things to do like write this blog or log my food intake into MyFitnessPal or watch "This Is America" AGAIN. Yes, I am fully aware that this rant has possibly made me sound ignorant and clearly not into real fashion, but I never claimed to be. I'm perfectly happy in my Target jeans and sandals today, thank you. But speaking of the Met Gala...

I CAN'T

that we're still okay with these two making these faces. 

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Like. WHAT? WHY ARE WE APPLAUDING THIS? I saw girls "drooling" over this last night, and I was like but it legitimately looks like one of them farted (what I don't know because do they eat? But let's pretend they do for this joke's sake and that the fart smells like mung beans, kale, and cottage cheese) and their twin powers activated so they reacted at the exact same time. The blonde (is that Ashley? Truly have no idea) is the culprit which explains her deer-in-the-headlights face, and the redheadblondebrunette (let's say it's Mary-Kate since I already deemed the blonde Ashley) is trying her damndest not to fully react to the smell by sucking in her cheekbones and nostrils ever-so-slightly while thinking "You disgust me." Also, she looks like Cersei. 

I CAN'T

with how poorly this Song of Style raw bar recipe was written. Look — I know I post recipes on here and I'm no chef either, but the woman literally has sunflower seeds listed as an ingredient and NOWHERE IN HER DIRECTIONS does it ever say where and when you should incorporate them (p. sure it's at the beginning with the oats and chia seed, but that's not the point). Also, the bars turn out very dry and crumbly if you follow her directions on how to pack them, so I took it upon myself to read her readers' comments and am glad I did. You can either add almond butter & honey in with the dates to make it stickier OR smush up the dates real good instead of just chopping them so act more like a paste. I will say the taste itself is delicious and the recipe is very easy, but it ended up as basically granola for me (which I put on top of my yogurt and it was great). Definitely going to try it again, but wish she'd edit the 'cipe!

I CAN'T

believe how quick I was to forget how difficult it is to portion control and eat smarter. Truly, I think I suppressed those memories from when I started doing it years ago to protect myself against the true hardship of it all. I fell off the wagon months ago in terms of being on top of WTF I'm even putting in my body, and it's with much sorrow that I report that I'm back to trying 😩I even reignited the MyFitnessPal app. NOT to obsess over calories/macros/etc (because that shit won't get you anywhere), but rather to expose myself to the ugly truth of just how terrible the decisions I've been making have been. Sometimes your system needs that disturbing shock, ya know? I just forgot how unnatural it feels to actually feel hunger and not eat until you want to die. It's the pits, honestly. But not being able to out-exercise a bad diet is a very real, very depressing thing, and yah girl needs to get back to recognizin'. And speaking of food...

I CAN'T

with this amazingly simple, Mexican chicken orzo bowl I made for dinners/lunches this week. Check out the full recipe to see what how I made it even easier and what I left out for health's sake.

I CAN'T

with people who forget they flicked their turn signal on and don't remember for MILES. If you want to see me really on edge, hop in the car with me when this happens. I live out the entire commute in half fear, half outrage. Like, are you really coming over and just taking your time? Are you gonna jerk your car over into the next lane at any moment and cause an accident? Or did you truly forget you even meant to merge? Can you not hear the tick-tick-tick in your car? Is your music too loud? Are you on your phone (I cannot judge here)? Or are you just stupid? It's the most edge-of-your-seat drive when you're behind someone like this and makes me wish I had a PA system in my car.

I CAN'T

that we had a few weeks of spring and it now seems as though summer is in full-swing. Just like that, I'm reminded of why I love summer in theory (tans, swimming, pools, outdoors, grilling, festive drinks, outdoor movies, cute clothes) but hate it in reality BECAUSE OF ALL THE SWEAT. During my two-month, full-time stint at Thought Catalog, I wrote my magnum opus about what it's like to be a very sweaty person, and guess what? STILL ALL TRUE. And the worst part? The result of sweaty inner thighs rubbing together and causing mass irritation is you walking around like you just took a huge deuce in your cute af, cutoff shorts. I have a new weapon for that this summer, though: MEGABABE'S Thigh Rescue stick. Thank the good sweet @the12ishstyle for birthing this brand and this product specifically. My thighs and myself thank you for coming to our mercy and would like to buy you a drink sometime. 

I CAN'T

with white jeans. They really bother me, guys. Not on other people; just specifically on myself. I never seem to be able to find the perfect pair, end up buying something good enough, wear them once for that year, and hate them the next year when I revisit them again. Therefore, I'm flirting with the idea of staying away from white denim this summer and going for something WAY more comfortable like these babies from GAP. Any other suggestions for white denim alternatives are welcome!

That's all I got for this week. Until next time...

xox,

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