I had an epiphany today. After years and years of struggling to decide what to wear, what I think I should wear, what I hope others would think looked nice on me, and what the media has tried entirely too hard to convince me that I should wear, it hit me. I SHOULD WEAR WHATEVER THE HELL I WANT. I’m a girl. Yes. So what’s suddenly expected once that’s confirmed?
Oh yes, summery sundresses on 105 degree days and sultry sweaters during the winter days. No, fellow Bohemians. I will no longer be ruled by the standards that society has set for me, or by the pressures of friends and family and their opinions as to what I should wear because I am a female, and they believe a dress, or heels will make me appear more flattering. I will in fact wear whatever the hell I want. And that my friends is nothing other than jeans and a tee.
[Michelle Rodriguez in an issue of Vogue, displaying how comfy & cute can go hand in hand.]
Yes, it is ridiculously simple and unbelievably plain. But guess what, it’s what I’ve always been able to be myself and be most comfortable in. I hate dresses, I hate heels, I hate make-up, and I hate nearly all jewelry. I wasn’t designed for any of those things, in my opinion. I never grew up wanting to look fancy, frilly or made-up. My girly tendencies seemed to vanish as soon as I was able to dress myself. For as long as I can remember, my mother and I waged war over what I should wear. She was hopeful for a daughter eager to try on dresses and anything colored pink, while I fought to make her understand that I was comfy in my pants and t-shirts. I could run in them, I could bend and jump in them, I could walk around with no problem in sneakers and lounge around without any fear of anyone seeing any part of my “business”, hurting my feet in high heels, or smudging my make-up when I happened to wipe sweat off of my face.
Sure, what I’d like to wear isn’t the sexiest thing on the planet, but who cares! I’m the one wearing the clothes. NOT YOU. Any time I’ve ever been in anything remotely dressy with lip gloss and heels on, I’ve never felt sexy. NEVER. Why? Well mostly because I’m too busy learning how to sit and bend properly without exposing too much of this or too much of that. Or wasting the time I’m supposed to be enjoying out, trying to make sure my jewelry or shoes go with my bag, my lip gloss is applied evenly, or that I don’t twist my ankle in shoes I can hardly stand in. The entire time I’m “dolled-up” I feel like a monster that’s bursting out of a frilly costume that’s ten sizes too small. I know that special occasions call for some dressing up, but even then, I’m just going to go with what I feel most normal in. And if that’s a pair of jeans and a somewhat dressy top, then so be it. These are my choices, this is my life. So while you’re reapplying your eye shadow, or eye-liner or blush or whatever else you have in that bottomless clutch, adjusting your top, or dress, and hiding the pain your shoes are causing you I’ll be enjoying myself with a confident and all too comfortable smile on my face in jeans and a t-shirt. Yes, I may be a fashion disaster in many people’s eyes, but at least I’ll be an egregiously happy fashion disaster.