Tasked with writing about my style resolution for 2012, I puzzled for awhile, trying to come up with some trend I wanted to try or a bad style habit I wanted to break. Everything I thought up I realized I had done already, mostly in the recent past. So instead of writing about the new style resolution I was making for 2012, I decided to pat myself on the back for the ones I’ve already made and stuck to.
See, I’m someone who did not have much self-esteem growing up. Actually, I thought I was ugly. My parents told me I was beautiful, but their kind words were no match for the trifecta of hideousness that hit me at age 14: glasses, braces, and an onslaught of acne bombarded me all at once. While I had always been somewhat shy, I became a complete wallflower, shrinking away from any additional attention my looks were attracting. It was likely all in my head — what 14-year-old doesn’t get a bit of acne or go through an awkward phase? — but I felt like the most hideous girl in the world. Keep reading »
I’ve never been a woman who thought about my figure and how to flatter it. From puberty onward, I luckily had a slim frame and an hourglass figure that made dressing easy-peasy. I could literally wear — and eat — anything that I wanted.
I was, I realize, that bitch you hate.
Then, around age 23, that all changed. I suppose it was my metabolism slowing down: I began to gain weight for the first time in my life and it all seemed to be concentrated on my butt. Jeans, skirts and dresses stopped fitting around my belly, hips and ass. I swear you won’t believe me, but I remember sitting in an office chair one day and realizing my butt had gotten cushier! Twenty-three and 24 were hard ages for me to begin with because I struggled with a nasty bout of depression; my sudden, prepubescent-ish awkwardness with my body changing became a nasty icing on the cake. Keep reading »
You can’t tell just by looking at me, but I live and breathe fashion. I follow all the right blogs, know all the right names, and stalk Style.com like a savant. I whittle away days on the internet amassing perfunctory “wishlists” of items I will never be able to afford, and I have forgone meals in favor of spending my money on thick issues of Vogue in languages I can’t read. I’m in deep.
Still, when you have a kind of go-to look, a uniform even, it grows into a habit that’s hard to break. I’m so comfortable in shades of black and grey, thrown together into a messy lazy-girl formula ruled by skinny jeans, oversized sweaters, and low boots, that I haven’t dared to wear anything else in, well,years. Am I just lackadaisical when it comes to dressing … or am I scared? Keep reading »