All my dreams have finally come true.
Well no, not the one about being the first female in MLB.
And no, not the one about being a really, really rich stay at home wife with no kids yet.
And okay no, I have not been offered a recording contract for my sweet rap skills. Yet.
Despite your efforts to be a total downer and remind me of all my shortcomings, I'm still excited! And here's why: I've finally found my very own wealthy benefactress.
THAT'S RIGHT! I'M SET FOR LIFE!
By the way, when I say "I'm set for life," I actually mean "I inherited lots of nice clothes."
Oh, and when I say "wealthy benefactress," I mean, "a lady I work with who has really good taste."
Today, for example, I'm wearing a sweater from Banana Republic. Don't act like you're not impressed.
Okay, you might really not be impressed. But oh, if you only knew that I've only been inside a Banana Republic once in my life, and that was only because I was shopping with my fashionably gay friend at the fashionably gay mall in Frisco and I spent the entire time staring at the floor so I wouldn't be able to see all the rich people in there judging me for daring to wear sweatpants to the mall...yes, perhaps if you knew that, you'd understand how EXCITED I am to own something from there.
My angel of mercy has no idea how much she's changed my life, since she didn't necessarily give the clothes directly to me; she gave them to my friend, who then gave them to me because they weren't in her color palette. But lucky for me, my magnanimous patroness just happens to wear my exact size and be of my exact coloring. (Well, almost...she's not quite as pale as I am, but who is?)
So now I'm just hoping I don't run into her at the office. I can see it now...
Wealthy Benefactress: "Hey, I used to have that exact sweater!"
Me: "...yes. This...exact...YOU CAUGHT ME! IT'S YOURS! I TOOK IT! I WENT THROUGH YOUR GARBAGE, I'M SO SORRY! I KNEW I LOOKED TOO POOR TO BE WEARING THIS!!!"
...because when I'm nervous, I have a tendency to confess to crimes I never committed.