On Sunday I was a ballerina.

On Sunday I put on this lovely, frilly, poofy tutu dress to go to church. Remember how I have a newborn? So obviously I tossed my dirty hair up in a top knot and headed on out. As I was walking up to the church I caught my reflection in the doors and was like, "What is that ballerina doing at church dressed like a ballerina? I mean, not that ballerina's don't go to church, but they probably usually don't wear their whole ballerina get-up when they do, I assume."

Anyway, you see where I'm going with this, (I'm sure since I am such a superb story teller) it wasn't a ballerina, it was me looking a whooooole lot like a ballerina. Therefore, during church I did what any girl who was a teenager in the early 2000's would do and all of church I pretended I was the blonde girl from Center Stage because I always wanted to be the blonde girl from Center Stage aside from the scandalous dancing on the bed part in her super cool culminating performance at the end. I feel like I was really good, too. The problem is I'll never know just how good because this all only happened in my mind and really, I can't even touch my toes and twirling hurts my head. Ballerina's, you are wizards.

Oh, clothes. Thanks for letting us live out our dreams whatever they may be. Can't thank you enough.

Dress: c/o SheInside
Shoes: $14.99 Ross