#luckydior

The House is unveiling Lucky Dior, a capsule of ready-to-wear creations and accessories designed by Maria Grazia Chiuri, celebrating Dior’s unique heritage. As a tribute to Monsieur Dior’s passion for signs of destiny, the astrology-inspired Zodiac Pixel print reinvents star signs in vibrantly hued designs, punctuating exclusive new pieces. As an ultimate surprise, the founding couturier’s lucky star is represented by a constellation of metallic eyelets studding the cannage of iconic Dior bags. Contact @milnyparlon for personal shopping 🛍 . . . . . . . . . . . . #milnyparlon #Dior #luckydior #luckydiorcollection #diortop #diorshirt #diorshorts #diorset #NewDior (at London, United Kingdom) https://www.instagram.com/p/Cf43IHuK0QO/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

Aujourd'hui, sur le blog, ce magnifique vernis Lucky Dior est la star de mon article où je vous donne quelques conseils pour bien appliquer et faire tenir son vernis 💖💅 Celui-ci est à shopper avec pleins d'autres teintes qui semblent toutes aussi belles chez @tendanceparfums 🤩💖 Lien en bio ⬆️⬆️⬆️ Des bisous 💋💋💋😘 #vernis #vernisdior #luckydior #nail #nails💅 #beauty #beautyful #beautybog #beautybogger #frenchblog #frenchblogger https://www.instagram.com/p/BxQYMYzj1nG/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=9jfpjqwbkz0x

Quand on peut enfin se faire les ongles le week-end 💅💅💅 J'ai testé Lucky Dior et j'aime assez bien même si je le verrais encore mieux sur peau un peu bronzée 👌☀️ Très girly et très GLOSSY et il est à retrouver chez @tendanceparfums ❤💖 Et vous ce week-end, reposant ou dynamique ? 😘💋 #luckydior #nail #nailfashion #nails #dior #vernisdior #diormakeup #vernis #vernisongles #nails💅 #nailsoftheday #nailpolish https://www.instagram.com/p/Bw1VNKZDe8U/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1n5kexrpxy5tr

I was born on August 9th. I’ve learned that makes me an Leo. 
That is not what I am, and that is not what this poem will be.
 I am not confident. I’m five foot 10 inches of loving everyone around me more than myself and I weigh somewhere around 160 pounds but the last time I checked was a year ago because for whatever reason even though I like the curves of my body when the number is attached it hurts.
 I’m a sucker for dark eyes, soft hearts, and sweet smiles. I’m still learning how to communicate.
 I say too much when people are tired of hearing me speak
, but I don’t talk when someone needs understand how I am feeling. I really hate orange juice. The taste hurts my mouth.
 I love hot chocolate.
 I don’t like to suck on hard candy because I am terrified that I will accidentally pull it back too far into my mouth and choke.
 So I bite it even if it hurts my teeth
. I’ve been told that it hurts to love me
. My mother used to call me the Ice Queen because I never let my emotions show. People say that I am hard to understand and honestly I know I don’t always make sense
. I’m an advanced practitioner in self-defense; I have my birth mom’s eyes and my birth dad’s everything else; and the only thing they have in common with one another is not having the capacity to love me any less. I’m a self-employed comedian. Ask me anything about anything and I’m pretty sure I could make it inappropriate or, inappropriate. My favorite music is acoustic. It’s soft and honest, a lot like who I want to be. I think a lot about who I want to be and how I want to love, and what echo I want to resonate after someone says my name in a quiet room. You will often find me in my bed settled with four pillows trying to soften the illusion that I won’t fall asleep by myself that night. See, I’m a hopeless romantic and a remarkable athlete until a cute guy with a nice smile walks by and I trip over my exhales trying to find the courage to say hello. But I bet you I could make him laugh once I start talking. I have an odd fascination with what happens after death and the human mind because even though people live and people die we know so little about something so important
And maybe that’s why people tend to love me before they get to know me
. 
Even though I am learning ways to help people I cannot help myself. I am trying to unlearn my birth parents abandonment
. Because they thought that’s what love looked like. I am clumsy. 
I trip over my fears and feelings trying to grasp them, because I do not know if they are real or something my birth parents carved into my heart
. I land curled under my blanket for days because I just want them to want to know me even after everything they have done
. It may sound weird but
 I wonder if my beauty marks wished they had been put on someone else
. I wonder if my contacts dry out because they know I will rehydrate them later with my drunken tears
. 
I wonder if my blankets wish they could hug me
. I’ve got a closet overflowing with skeletons covered in dirt because no matter how many times I think I’ve buried them, they dig themselves out and crawl back into bed with me. I will love in a language you might not understand; please know that variance doesn’t measure weight. I’m an unfinished poem, and a lover, and a fighter: stubbornly and steadily trying to convince myself that I’m all I’ll ever need. Hi, my name is Teresa. I enjoy potatoes, people watching,
and I laugh for absolutely no reason at all
, but I don’t allow myself to cry as often as I need to
. My hobbies include over-sharing when talking to people, sleeping twelve hours a day, making contradicting statements about myself that all hold truth, and trying learn to love myself.