Fashion Regrets. I has them.

I was looking at faux leather leggings earlier and planning fall outfits in my head and I was taken over by the saddest nostalgia.

I was thinking about being a little baby fatty, in my midish twenties. I was a bit bigger than I am now and I remember I had some money for clothing.

If some of y’all are my age or older you may remember the leather pants Melissa Etheridge used to wear. Something like this, think jim Morrison with hips. I remember finding a pair of faux leather pants very similar to that and I tried them on.

At the time I almost started crying in the dressing room because I had a little belly and my big ass thighs and smallish butt.

So I was thinking about those pants and I wish I had bought them. Only because I would probably still have them and I want to wear them.

Right now at the size I am (small fat, round. Awesome belly) I want those pants. I want to wear them with a thin black tank top, with my little belly hanging over the low ass waistband. I want to wear them with my Docs or with the semi engineer style boots I have.

I feel like it would be perfect.

I am in mourning for all the clothes I didn’t think I could “pull off” because of my wee fat body. Because I believed that I would legitimately make people sick if they saw my belly and my muffin top (FUCK I loathe that term) or if it was clear that my stomach isn’t flat and my thighs not only touch they fucking cuddle while I walk.

I find it retroactively upsetting.

I am mourning the affordable underwire bikini tops, the booty shorts, the perfect fit sturdy twill zip front dresses, the pleated butt showing minis.

I am so sad that I was so ashamed of my fine ass chubby body I missed out on so much fashion awesome.

And now fast forward a bit more than a decade and I am seeing “vintage” (I think things should be older than a decade to be vintage but whatever) stuff that if it were in my size would be perfect and is just like stuff I had when it was all new.

I’m so sad.

And yet, I’m also scouring for these fashions and others because I’ve discovered that part of living in super health conscious Seattle means I have come to really enjoy traumatizing other people with my fatness.

For instance.

I was wearing one of my favorite things (this maxi skirt from Deb Shops in black of course) and a woman, maybe my age or a bit younger stopped me to let me know that someone had spanx on sale because she could see my “trouble” areas…you know my fat jiggling ass and was trying to do me a solid.

I smiled and told her politely that I like my jiggling trouble spot and I don’t need any Spanx.

I was really amused.

The thing is, I know that people tend to think I am way younger than I am but the fact is the older I get the fewer fucks I give.

The older I get the more amusement I get from the discomfort of other people in terms of my body. From the young ladies who were appalled at my furry armpits and unshaven legs to the friendly ladies offering advice about what’s flattering.

I just don’t care.

I want to spend my middle age looking precisely how I want to look.

Similarly I have been trying to refine my plans for body modification so I can start saving up.

Behold Maria Jose Cristerna.

 

I love her.

I love her.

If you don’t know who she is check her out on the internets.

I think she is one of the most beautiful human beings on the planet. She is honestly the epitome of looking however the fuck you want to me and I want grow up to give that few fucks.

I may not want her mods specifically but I want to reach my twilight years decorated and looking exactly how I please.

I wish someone could have told me way back then that I could in fact look how I want when i want. I wish someone would have told me that over and over again.

Sometimes I still have to tell myself. I still struggle on occasion with presenting myself the way I think I should versus how I want to.

Sometimes I lose faith in my own ability to support my need to look how the fuck I want to look.

Shit is hard but looking back at the young woman who so wanted to wear the things but was afraid to because OH NO FAT I think I can do it.

To that end I have my little stash of tattoo references, a list of a few more face holes I’d like punched in my dermis. I am learning that I can and should relearn how to sew in a more serious fashion.

This summer this is pretty much my look:

Dark lips and no fucks given.

Dark lips and no fucks given.

I’ve been experimenting with a few sheer items of clothing and trying to figure out layering when it is hot out. I haven’t been entirely successful but the evolution into an Evil Alien Nazgul Queen is happening.

And I will let it happen.

Even if it hurts sometimes.

Homo Out.