aviators – borrowed from Bobby (from 80s purple)
Lace button up – gift from Threadsence
bustier – H&M
Orly jeans – gift from Raven Denim (random fact: Kim‘s sister Kyla modeled for one of their lookbooks!)
Sarka platforms – Aldo
belt – thrifted
bag – gift from Coachlipstick – Clinique Bamboo Pink
I didn’t have body image issues until I started college. Always reassuring myself that I didn’t care what I looked like, I was ultimately lacking in outward confidence but credited it to inexperience and my desire to be an unassuming wallflower. That is, until at age eighteen, I discovered a boy. Seemingly out of my league, he had an intimidating dating history that surpassed most men in their thirties. The girls he dated were beautiful, thin and impossible to ignore – partly because a few of them wouldn’t leave me alone (and made sure to make me feel as low as possible). When people started questioning his attraction to me, I began wondering about it myself. I was an innocent, bare faced, flat chested, size six girl with blue hair and few other distinguishing features – among his history of vixens with bangin’ bodies. Despite his attraction to me, I felt inadequate.
That was when my unhealthy relationship with food and my body began. I became obsessed with what I ate and when I ate it, numbers on the scale and how my jeans fit. I was eating an extremely limited diet, killing myself to work off every calorie I consumed and barely sleeping. Though I didn’t see the problem while I was in it, when I went home to visit my family, my mom was visibly upset. My newly rigid lifestyle and drastic weight loss was a shock to my family, and it was the wake-up call I needed.
It wasn’t a seamless transition. I struggled to maintain my weight with a healthy diet and exercise, but without practically starving myself and working out nonstop, I couldn’t keep it all off and eventually went back to a more appropriate size for my build. The reason? We’re not all meant to be the same size. It took a slightly tumultuous four year relationship and a year of independence for me to realize that save for dedicating all of my time to being a skinny minnie, I am never going to be that girl and still be able to enjoy life. And that’s okay. All I can do is be kind to my body, live a healthful life and work with what I’ve got.
I wish I could say I learned that on my own in a moment of self-discovery, but the truth is that when I let go of my past and insecurities, I opened myself up to extraordinary people who made me feel beautiful. Adequate. Maybe even exceptional. They know who they are.
This long (my apologies!) stream of consciousness isn’t really in direct reference to anything, though I’ll admit that lately, I’ve had my moments of insecurity. I guess this is just a reminder to myself that “real bodies” come in all sizes – zero, six, sixteen or otherwise. If ever you doubt yourself, remember that there is always someone who thinks you’re beautiful. Adequate. Maybe even exceptional.