I saw a woman today who was actually really quite pretty. It took me a while to figure it out, though, because she looked sort of like she’d fallen asleep in Sam Moon’s, and all the little kids there dressed her before she woke up.
She was wearing one of those tunics that have the blank spaces on them, like they were crinkled up when they were dyed, that I completely loathe. But this one was particularly unattractive because it was mainly black and white, but it had a lot of colour on the front, and coloured studs. It barely covered her tuchus, and she wore leggings. She also wore leopard print flats. Her hair was stuffed into a brown crushed velvet looking newsboy cap. She wore largeish silvery fleur-de-lis earrings, and a matching necklace with wooden beads and large fleur-de-lis. And a watch. A big black beaded watch.
All in all, it was a very odd outfit. I give her high kudos, though, for being so completely comfortable in her skin that she wore what she wanted to wear, and enjoyed it. As I said, she’s quite pretty. She has a lovely smile, and showed it often.
I wish I were more like that. Not in the whole wearing odd outfits, because I do that frequently. But when I see pictures of myself, or catch glimpses in the mirror at just the wrong angle, I cringe inside. I know people come in all different shapes and sizes. Why do I feel like it’s wrong to be my shape and my size? What’s wrong with it anyway? Why can’t I just say okay, I’m round, I am a happy person, and I’ll wear whatever I want to wear.
If you figure it out, would you share the secret with me? ‘kthanxbai