I was at the grocery store, buying avocados for my toast, and I thought to myself

I'm not just purchasing produce, I'm making a poignant statement about the fleeting nature of millennial trends, and the camera pans out as I dramatically declare, 'I'll take a dozen, and a side of existential dread.'

I've started carrying a small emergency kit in my purse, complete with bobby pins, pain relievers, and a portable charger.

Because apparently, I'm not just a woman, I'm a disaster relief team.

My morning commute isn't just traffic.

It's the opening credits of my own indie film, complete with a custom soundtrack, dramatic lighting, and me staring pensively out the window, knowing that *this* is the montage where I find my true calling.

I was at a coffee shop the other day, meticulously arranging my scarf, latte, and phone to achieve peak 'effortlessly chic' aesthetic.

Meanwhile, my brain was just frantically trying to recall if I turned off the curling iron.