When I originally pitched this article, I had a certain pair of shorts in mind. They were high-waisted, bright white, and short. Very, very short. I had visions in my head of looking superbly chic, somewhat, perhaps, like Audrey Hepburn on the set of Sabrina?
Then I actually went to put the shorts on -- something I hadn't done in over a year -- and they wouldn't zip up. Woe. Terror. I felt like Betty Francis, ready to climb into bed and pretend I was having female troubles.
Alas, I marched on and selected another pair of shorts, red ones. To my joy these ones still fit, and they looked cute. I knew I'd pair them with a striped shirt and go for a nautical vibe.
Then there was the trouble of my legs. After years of obsessively picking at the skin, various allergic reactions and hives break-outs, plus my glaring paleness, I wasn't feeling particularly keen on showing off my gams to the world. I just don't like 'em. Everybody has their body parts and personality traits that they adore, that they'll show off whenever given the chance. For me, those parts do not include my legs.
Despite the fact that I try to believe we should love ourselves and our bodies no matter what, it doesn't always work. And I resent the fact that admitting to these things might have me scolded or called out for not being The Best And Most Self-Assured Feminist In The World. Hey dude, I'm sorry for admitting that sometimes, I hate my body and want to hide in a muu-muu. That's just the way it is!
And yeah, maybe as a beauty editor I have bizarrely high standards for myself, something that Cat and Julie have previously both touched on poignantly. But hey, this post is supposed to be about wearing some cute shorts and trying to feel good about it, so let's move along ...
I wore the shorts on a disappointingly cold and gray day riding bikes on Venice Beach. It took me awhile to get used to my legs being so ... visible. After coming out of a pretty miserable and bundled-up Winter, I wasn't exactly ready to show the world my thighs, but they were out there. Initially I was scrutinizing myself, and all the little details. Oh dang, I'd missed a spot shaving. Oh great, that scar is pretty visible. Man, I really need to work out. Etc., etc.
Then I started to forget about it. Wearing the shorts made riding the bike a lot easier, the (slightly chilly) breeze felt nice on my legs and my outfit was cute, damn it. Yeah, I'd probably be happier with the whole situation if my legs looked like Barbie's, but they never will. No one's legs will ever look like Barbie's!
Any search of close-up shots of footwear on Style.com will bring up images of models who've nicked themselves shaving, skin covered with Band-aids, scars and bruises and all that stuff that "normal" people have to deal with too. We can't all go through life being Photoshopped 24/7, so why should I hold myself up to those standards?
What's the moral of this story? Well, I'd have to say: 1) Wear and buy clothes that fit you. It will save you a lot of frustration. If something fits you properly, no matter what the size, you'll be comfortable and you won't be tugging at yourself, readjusting things all day and just looking like a general grump.
2) The details don't matter. No one's actually looking that close. Most people have pretty terrible eyesight.
3) If your outfit's cute, who gives a damn? Werk, bitch.
I'm on Twitter sometimes, sayin' stuff: @hannahejo