The eighteenth day of Christmas

Oh, what's this? Just the humiliating outfit Mr Finch has asked me to wear for the next twenty four hours :). That smiley is passive aggressive, in case you didn't realize.

How am I supposed to do yoga in THIS? You know what? Never mind. I'll figure it out. Just because I can only wear this doesn't mean I have to wear it doing yoga. I've heard that there's something called naked yoga? But first, present. This one's from Brett, thank God.

Kay, so I just opened it. It's perfume! Finally a normal gift! Or, semi normal gift.. It's also imu- Imbeud -emu.. THERE'S MAGIC IN IT. I can pretty much decide for myself what smell I want. Same deal though, twenty four hours. Thankfully Mr Finch hasn't given me any orders on it. I went for a fruity type of smell just to test. I smell like strawberries <3. Ya know, probably that wasn't the best thing to go with. You know, with this whole getup? I now both look and smell like a highschooler, apart from my body though. No highschooler has these curves..

I'm still trying to stay positive. It's hard. Just like reading, or thinking, or wearing clothes that don't make me look like a slut. Today is the, eighteenth? Meaning it's like, one -two -three -four -five.. Uhm. -eight days or something until Brett's here! I can live eight days! I've already survived the other eighteen, sooo.

Today is chill by the way. No Mr Finch to bother me, maybe he's at work or something. I'll only have to leave for groceries and my package, and then the whole day is free, yay. See you later, Mr diary.