shoes: don't recall. shorts: american eagle. shirt: j.crew. belt: thrifted (american eagle). bracelets: forever21. earrings: hawaii.
Traveling in Europe about 10 years ago, I was stopped and scrutinized at customs after handing them my passport. When I smile, my eyes nearly disappear into squintiness, and my smiling passport photo looked nothing like the straight-faced me. I'm sure it was for less than 10 seconds that they alternated between looking up at me and down at my photo, but it felt like an eternity. An eternity packed with crimes that I never committed but felt guilty of.
[Epilogue: Eventually they let me through, and I proceeded to eat my weight in Italian ice cream.]
My best friend growing up called them "happy clown eyes," because she said they turn into two rainbow-shaped arcs like what jolly clowns paint on their faces. Which is nice of her to try to say, but...really? Clowns? Yipes. Those guys are creepy, whether their eyes are painted happy or sad or dead.
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