TOO DIRTY TO CLEAN MY ACT UP

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Dress,  ASTR, I cannot find it anywhere (wtf?! sorry, haters gonna hate) BUT I did find  // Tights, // Booties, // Purse, — (wow, mom’s bag that I tend to “borrow” is expensive). Here’s a lesser but still expensive version, // Hat, // Earrings that you can hardly see,

DISCLAIMER: I wrote this a week ago on an airplane to Miami and then never had the opportunity to post it. Whoops.

So we meet again. I’d like to say that I missed a post last week because of Thanksgiving, but really I used Thanksgiving as an excuse to skip out on you all. By the way, are you enjoying our mother-daughter gift guides? You know, the ones I haven’t actually been doing? Mom is a patient woman for putting up with me as her cohort. Thank goodness she oozes style and taste and makes up for my lack of ability to pull my shit together.

I am writing this post on my way to Miami, where I will be crashing on couches for Art Basel. I’m on the good old no plan-plan, which made my mom feel incredibly safe and secure as she sped me to the airport today. I barely made both of my flights—sprinting in heels while carrying a massive carry-on bag is not as chic as it looks in the movies. Frantic on the tram en route to my connecting flight, the security girl looked at me and laughed, “the key to this airport is to never look down. Keep looking out for signs, because all of your plans will change on a dime. Oh, and welcome to Houston, you feel me?” (I’ve never had a truly positive experience in Houston, it’s the city that seems to giggle at my struggle). But man, did I ever feel her. Her advice resonated with every fiber in my being. I wanted to look back and ask if we were actually talking about Houston or if we were getting real about life. Instead I grinned, fake laughed, and ignored her advice— looking back down at my phone, where I spend the majority of my life. Signs, what signs? If the sign isn’t a push notification on my iPhone, I’m going to go ahead and guarantee that I missed it.

While I’m momentarily confessing about my iPhone addiction, I’m going to marvel at more of my smart phone sins. It amazes me how I can literally spend a day on my phone and still forget to answer a text message. Apologies, friends. The digital age and ADD are not a match made in cyber heaven, it’s a combo that leads to too many tabs open and a mind that quickly forgets why there is even a phone in my hand in the first place.

Because my phone is always in my hand, I accidentally swiped the button and answered a phone call I’d been ignoring for several weeks yesterday— it was the woman who stays on top of me and makes sure I’m visiting specialists and taking care of myself. That was a rude awakening, because I realized I missed my rheumatologist appointment yesterday morning. (Side note: this information is 100% irrelevant to you, reader, it’s just me attempting to remember to call the doctor and explain myself when this flight lands— which one week later, still haven’t done). Do we call this fibro-fog, a key component of fibromyalgia, or irresponsible, a key word my mom often uses to describe me? Irregardless, I lied as the woman on the other end of the line asked if I’m taking care of myself, babying my symptoms and getting more sleep than most people. I promised her I’d get to the dermatologist for steroid shots in my scalp for thyroid-related hair loss (“mmhmm… ok… sounds divine…I’m on it”). And then I hung up the phone and worked until 10 pm, woke up at 5:30 am, downed a 5 hour energy, drove to Dallas, and grabbed an extra dirty latte as I boarded my first plane.

This, friends, is how you take good care of yourself. This is also how you miss blog posts and doctor’s appointments. But there ain’t no rest for the wicked. And darlings, I’m bad to the bone 😉

Off to party in the city where the heat is on all night on the beach till the break of dawn,

Alex (Boo) //  &

Photos: by the insanely beautiful and multitalented. Check out not only her beauty but HER COOKIE ART!