Poor Nana

The other day I met with an old guy friend for coffee. As I'm sipping on my latte, trying to keep the peace/conversation going, he decides to ask me why I "dress like a grandma now." Let me provide a visual: We're at Starbucks. It's 6pm. I am wearing a blue tee, cardigan, and freaking white skinny jeans. I'm pretty sure this outfit is standard coffee house garb. But thanks pal, my life had now hit a new low-- age 22 and geriatric.

After this extreme blow to the ego, I decide to do the mature thing and peruse this guy's facebook. I know, curiosity killed the Chal, but whatever. I hit gold. Apparently this guy spends his time hanging out and snapping photos with Snookie's long lost twin. Yes my friends, you heard right, Jersey Shore's finest has made her west coast debut. At this point, it all made sense: the guy just didn't understand why any girl would wear clothes that covered her thighs/breasts/anything. Mystery solved. But my mistake was taking his judgment seriously in the first place. I heard through the grapevine that this "friend" is currently unemployed and sleeping on his parent's blow-up mattress.

Need I say more? Grandma does NOT approve.