Friday, December 5, 2014

How I wore it: snuggly

Hey all! Today I wore an outfit that I had already worn in a slightly different iteration over the weekend. I'd been looking forward to it all week and little wonder:

It's all my favorite elements in one outfit! Grey, black, leggings, and boots. Man, a couple of years ago, I would've just called it a day and worn this every day. I don't think the proportions are perfect - as much as I like these loose sweatshirts, they are a little unflattering, but, hey, at the end of the day, comfiness is important, too. Maybe the sweatshirt is too long for the short dress, too. Stuff to think about… 

Also? I came to a realization last night and this morning. And this might be too personal, so I'll give you a chance to not engage for a sec…

Okay, so here it is: I'm sick of hating my body. Now this is not a mindblowing realization. God knows, Sal makes a career of telling us why/how we shouldn't hate our bodies. But honestly? I've been in a weird grapple with my body for over twenty years. That's tiring, y'all. And another stupid thing? My body isn't objectively problematic. And that sucks. It sucks that I have this perfectly fine body that I obsess about because of stupid things such as my mother's criticism when I was younger or the fact that I can't bike because it's fucking cold outside and I'm scared of biking too late at night. I mean, yesterday I had an unpleasant evening - TMI alert - I had my first mammogram. Breast cancer runs in my family on both sides and my doctor wants me to start getting checked now, as opposed to waiting till later (results came back normal: yay!). So, although I wasn't scared per se, I was anxious about the repercussions of all of this. I decided that I deserved treats. So after the appointment, my husband and I drove to the grocery store and stocked up on treats I like: roasted corn snacks and yoghurt-covered raisins. So I ate some of those, had a small dinner, and generally felt boss about life. A couple of hours later, I felt fat and gross for having eaten yummy little unhealthy-ish snacks as well as dinner.

So, screw it. I'm done. Or at least, more honestly, I'm going to try to be done. My body is capable of wonders: it walks me a couple of miles a day to go to work and get my daughter. It is capable of biking without tiring for hours. It grew a person. It enjoys intimate time with my husband. I shouldn't hate it anymore.

Who's with me? 

Grey sweatshirt: Old Navy (online), remixed
Black dress: Old Navy (online) remixed
Leggings: Old Navy (online), remixed
Grey boots: Frye Paige Cuffs, by way of eBay, remixed


  1. I'll sign up for that. It's amazing, and a little disheartening, the extent to which early programming continues to reverberate in one's adult life. I was always the kid in elementary school who never did well on the President's Physical Fitness Test; my mother always said, "Oh, you'd look so nice if you lost a little weight"; I never played sports; my high school boyfriend told me I should lose a few pounds, so I starved myself; a girl in high school told me I didn't "look smart." Fast-forward a few decades, and I'm still learning that my body has its own shape and that it's okay, that I could bear a healthy child and nurse her; that the kid who could never run even a quarter mile can take up running in her fifties and run 3 miles, that my lover can think I'm beautiful because he sees the real me. It's a process.

  2. Rock on. I think it's all an issue of self-love and self-care. We'll keep trying...