There are plenty of things I’m willing to try. I’ll eat almost anything at least once. I’m up for adventure. I like to explore something new. But there are some things in life that I refuse to do. There are no ifs, ands, or buts about it.
|Oh hell no.|
Sneaker Heels. I tried them on once, it really wasn’t pretty. Sneakers, aka tennis shoes, are supposed to be comfortable and functional. This destroys that. Frankly, I just don’t get it.
Cleanses. People come on. A cleanse is silly. You body is fully functional and therefore can cleanse out all the “toxins” on it’s own without you starving yourself and drinking vegetable juice for 30 days.
Marathons. I don’t like running but I certainly will run. Just not 26.2 miles, or 13.1, for that matter. That’s not good for your knees anyway.
Head chain jewelry. I really don’t know who can pull this off, but it’s certainly not me.
Steaks. It’s true. Despite Michael’s ploys to get me to eat it, I refuse. I hate steak. Sure, every now and then I have a bite. But for some reason around the age of 13 something happened and I’ll never eat them again. Do I have a problem with other red meat? The answer to that is no and I love me some Taco Bell.
Watch anything even remotely scary if Michael’s away. I am the biggest scardey cat. We are watching the semi scary thriller, True Detective (I highly recommend it, Mattew Mconaughey and Woody Harrelson are tracing homicides in Louisiana and their characters are so interesting) but I can’t watch it by myself. This is more of a thriller, and I freak out.
To go rock climbing ever again. I once fell (was dropped) 20 feet and smashed my ankle and leg bones into millions pieces. Michael thinks I should, as long as he belays me. I think I feel just dandy on the ground. And I especially won’t be doing this:
Rice Krispy Treats. This is not dessert to me. And I don’t like it.
Nail art. Your nails do say a lot about you after all. Like how slutty you are. And nail art is semi slutty.
Tattoos on my body. I don’t care if you have them, but I do care if I have them. You won’t be seeing me with any ink, ever. And it’s not because I “don’t know what I would want to get.” It’s that I do not think Helene would/could/should rock a tattoo. NO NEVER.