Sunday, 7 July 2013

Saturday Daze.

[Can somebody explain to me why she calls B.O.B Mr. Fantastic?]
My everyday bag, if lost my life is some what in flames (from ALDO)
My new found love: Jelly Shoes. I found these for $20 and fell in love (from MEL by MELISSA)
Rings are my weakness, typically  I wear ten a day (Yes, I am aware that I have a problem)
Because a day without stripes, is a day wasted.
Things I do in my spare time (besides Starbucks and wearing an unhealthy number of rings)
Completed Look
Shirt: ZARA
Blazer: ZARA
Pants: OAK & FORT
Belt: ZARA

Hello friends,
I hope your day is filled with beauty and a grande extra hot vanilla steamed milk with no whip.
I started off my day with the bold decision to wear stripes on stripes and jelly shoes. 
If such an important decision is made before a cup of coffee and a full out dance session to Taylor Swift, then you've already set the bar for the day.
I can this a "bold decision" not because this was a stretch from my everyday wardrobe or whatnot- Hey, I'm the girl who wears seven inch heels to school with the plunging midriff. But for some reason this outfit has been in my closet for so long it's depressing, and I've wanted to showcase it since I bought the garments. Despite all of this, I've held back for about two months and I've been trying to figure it out since. Being the girl walking (actually, mostly falling and stumbling) down the halls with my seven inch heels and my very obvious midriff creepy out, I've learned not to give any fucks about the the thoughts of other people towards my style. I'll be the one in the maxi skirt when there's twenty inches of snow and when my small city is the coldest place in the world. And it's most likely me in front of you in the lineup to Starbucks wearing both of her parent's clothes from the 80's and 90's. 
But I didn't just magically find my style instantly, I had to go through a lot of flared jeans and a lifetime supply of Northern Getaway to come to the realization.
Now, what I am about to share probably won't make any sense, but bear with me- it's just past one in the morning and I'm slightly blind from accidentally by jabbing a toothbrush into my eyeball (another story for another time) and it's also a realization from the more pathetic and thought getting a perm was a great idea version of me. I'm not proud of her, either.
Growing up I thought the way people saw and treated others were based off the labels sewn on their clothes and the amount of makeup you had to flaunt. 
Now typing and reading that I realize how stupid and idiotic that sounds, but this is coming from the girl who thought perms and flared jeans were iconic. 
I believed having the perfect cake face accompanied with the name brand clothing with the fake Louis Vuitton that you told everybody was real would make me truly happy. Happy during this time was getting attention from the popular girls and having meaningless conversations about how much your Burberry scarf your dad bought for you in Paris was.
I blame the chemicals from the perm for my thought process during this time.
But these girls weren't even my friends, they were people that I just so happen to see five times a week who wore two push up bras and were achieving second base with their two week old boyfriend. They eventually ignored me, and without their approval I felt naked. My Victoria's Secret: PINK tracksuit was tarnished (more so then before I bought it) without their opinions. Through this I learned how to be alone and came to the realization on how much of a strange child I was.
I thank my parents for not buying me $350 jeans and knocking some sense into my permed head.

Now four years have past from my dreaded junior high days and I have officially graduated from high school, I have forgotten about the girls that I once worshiped (in fact, one of them just came back for New York from her nose job surgery, while I just finished watching four seasons of friends in one week- make good life decisions, friends) and have found equally strange people who I can call my friends. But the judgement from others still creep out from the dreaded hallways of junior high.
You're probably thinking I have family issues or have consumed too much Starbucks in thinking that an outfit and my traumatic experience of junior high are connected. Well here is my though process and the way I see it:

From my dreaded experience from junior high and the constant thought that I wasn't perfect still creeps out. My 15 year old self influences the 18 year old current self. 
Talk about emotionally damaged.
But, after I finally decided that it was time to put on my stripped suit and jelly shoes and finally go out the doors I must say, I kicked my 15 year old perm self's ass.

So did I actually come to realize such a bizarre realization by wearing stripes and pink jelly shoes? 

In conclusion: fuck the bitches, there's no need for them. 
If they don't accept you, regardless if you are permed and think crocs are socially acceptable or not- if they don't encourage your weirdness, then they don't  deserve to be around you while you blurt Hilary Duff and Avril Lavigne. 
After wearing my suit out, I felt great. I got complements from friends and strangers on the streets.
So I give you the gift of insurance that being the best version of you is so much better than being the girl with the crooked nose job.

Thanks friends for listening.
Stay beautiful.



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