I know I feel simply terrible in pants suits, suit jackets and structured, boxy, three button blazers that are longer than waist length. This is challenging for me, considering my profession. I am forever searching to find the power-suit that makes me actually feel powerful, not fat and frumpy. It’s definitely not a pants-suit.
I suffocate in button down shirts. I don’t think I even own one. These breasts cant be contained.
Jeans. These days jeans feel awful when I wear them. I don’t think they’ve actually felt good since I was a size 10p. I haven’t been a size 10p since 2002. They dig into my bellybutton. They give me muffin top or they are perpetually sliding down, allowing me to gift the world with plumber crack. Simply put, jeans fit terribly. If I buy to fit my waist I swim in the booty, hips and thighs. And they are consistently 3-6 inches too long. If buy capris, they hit my ankle and it just looks like normal length jeans that shrunk. I am not sure why I still wear them. Is it society telling me to? Fuck Jeans.
I feel pretty in fitted jackets with darts and pleats. I love short boleros that end just above the waist. Sometimes I am afraid that they’ll just add to my thick waist. I love to rock a short skirt, no longer than mid thigh, at least 2 inches above the knee. In the summer I’ll rock a maxi, but only if it flows all the way to the ankle. Knee length, tea length, mid calf are nothing but a horror show on my thick, strong legs.
Scarves make me feel both protected and pretty.
I don’t leave the home without protective eye wear. Sunglasses are my thing.
Boots. I Love boots and booties. Booties have become my thing.
Knee Socks. quirky socks. socks with buttons. Socks with ruffles.
Cozy knits. wrap sweaters and asymmetrical lines. I find comfort in layers. Layered tanks under my shirts. Cowell necks, turtle necks. Tops that simply scream fall. I was made for summer and fall.
Palazzo pants. Big wide flowing legged pants. Mostly solids. Sometimes yoga style, sometimes linen. And once in a blue moon, and obnoxiously loud print.
Jumpers and one pieces. I lived in these as a kid and even into high school and college. I loved them. I want to love them again. I will love them again. There are 3 in my closet just waiting for me to look dead sexy in them. This is one of my goals for 2017.
I am gold. Even when gold wasn’t popular, I was gold. The only non-gold I regularly rock are my Nanny P’s and Grandma Helen’s engagement rings. These two rings never leave my fingers. They remind me where my strength comes from.
Cuffs and chunky bracelets. stacks of rings. Layers of necklaces. Mostly gold. hoop earrings, earrings that dangle. Never studs. Never pearls. God I hate pearls. My ex-husband gifted me an expensive set of pears on our wedding day. I cried. I cried because I hated them and had to wear them instead of the sparkling crystal and gold necklace my BFF designed for me. I cried because he bought me pearls which meant he either wanted to change me or truly didn’t know me at all (the former proved to be true with time). My BFF’s response was “oh boy, they’re very high quality. let’s just get these on you” That should have said it all. She’s a jeweler.
I never wore them again. They collect dust in a box along with my engagement ring. Coincidentally, I wish it were appropriate for me to wear that. I’d wear it every day. My BFF designed it and ever facet is me personified. It’s big and loud and chunky with soft edges and more sparkle than should be legal. She knows me.