I had an idea the other day for a series of high fashion paintings. I was explaining it to my husband without actually looking at his face. I think I was typing or something. He didn’t have a single response. And that made me sit up straight and turn to look at him. He was just looking at me, letting the ideas sink in.
I said, “That’s not really me, is it?”
He just shook his head.
I nodded and went back to what I was doing.
I’m not hip. And that’s okay with me. I’ve never been cool and I will never be cool. But I will always be fun.
I had these friends once. One was silly like me. We would blare the radio and sing (badly) at the top of our lungs and get completely goofy. And this other friend(who was not silly) would sit in the backseat of the car practically snarling at us. Of course, that didn’t stop me. I’d rather be happy than look perfect.
Though I do adore the 50′s and 60′s. The era of perfectly coiffed hair, being completely pulled together at all times, always tactful, etc. is not for me. I will never be that kind of woman. It’s fun to try, but when my hair falls out of place because I decide to do cartwheels with my daughter it’s worth it.
And though I love the look of 90′s heroin chic, they don’t exactly look pleased with themselves, do they?
I don’t snarl. I don’t have resting bitch face. When I try it causes laughter. I actually try to imitate someone’s snarl-face and it scares my husband. Haha. And I just laugh, because I couldn’t walk around like that really. I guess I’m just not cool enough.
I am loud and I contort my face into weird shapes if I get excited when I’m talking. I’m wildly passionate. When I think of something happy I smile – even when I’m mad. I can’t help it.
There are some celebrities that say that you have to develop a persona and never break it. That would never work for me. I’m happy with who I am and I can’t pretend to be something I’m not. I certainly couldn’t do it all the time indefinitely! And if that leaves me vulnerable and open to heartbreak then so be it.
I admire those people, but I just wouldn’t be happy being one of them.
That’s one of the reasons that I slowed down on the Dressing For Your Body Type posts. I couldn’t follow my own rules. Nor did I want to. At least not all the time. Yes, I want to look proportioned. My torso is too long, my legs are too skinny, my hips are wider than my bust and always will be. My bone structure causes my pear shape and no amount of exercise is going to change that. But sometimes I just don’t care.
Sometimes I just don’t care. And sometimes that’s good.
I do agree with quotes about dressing for success, but I don’t agree with quotes about dressing like you’re going to meet your worst enemy, because why do you care what your enemies think of you? I don’t.
I’m not hip. I’m a dork and I’m awkward and I’m funny and I’m okay with that. And I think that’s what really bothers the haters. They aren’t okay with themselves so how do I have the audacity to be okay with who I am? And that’s when you say:
linked to original artist’s fb page