artislovely:

gasp-shock:

A recent re-reading of French Women Don’t Get Fat (seriously, not as trite as it sounds - if only to soak in the glamour of the author’s French pastoral upbringing and current job as the CEO of Champagne Veuve Cliquot) has encouraged certain Gallic habits in my daily routine.

I’m now going to the market on a more frequent basis - just to gather the items I need for one day out.  I try to shop right after work, which has resulted in a new routine of arriving home, removing the skirt I wore to work and venturing out in public in my tights, the leggings that cover my tights on my walk home, and Uggs (no worries, my work coat covers my rump).

It is only a matter of time before the local Whole Foods knows me as the lady who doesn’t own pants.

via betterplanes

I should re-read this book as well. I remember liking the message she was trying to send.

omgmarri:

gatu:

you mean something like this, right?

monsterman:

(via kneecap)

babypanda:

ascend:

ricforsale:

書を捨てよ、町へ出よう

fuckyeahladyboner:

misselise:

gogo

icysunshine:

smuttynakedness:

myluna:

shada:

Girls unlimited : pretty chicks wtih tattoos

dark hair *.*

(via demons)

section9:

(via breadandfaxes)

Streetsharks!

wow old school

(via demons)