Oh. They'd tear me a new one, no doubt. They'd lock me in the 360 degree mirror room and leave me there until I was reduced to a sack of tear-soaked denim. Then they'd burn my wardrobe to release the demons. It wouldn't even make it to Goodwill.
*NEWSFLASH FOR THE HOPELESSLY UNOBSERVANT*
Current looking clothing has never been a priority in my life.
This has never been as apparent as it is in the South. ...where ladies wear dresses and high-heels to hang drywall. Seriously. When I was at a Habitat for Humanity build a few weeks ago, you would've thought that the gangway was a runway.
Silly me. I wore jeans.