I am a pinup girl, with pale skin and perfect hair. i’m wearing a belted black dress with bursting red cherries on it, stockings with the seam up the back and sexy leather wedge heels.
I am a diva with a aqua eyeliner and long fuchsia curls. i’m wearing a liquid silver and turquoise fitted dress, tailored to handle my curves and lacking bosom. i’m wearing saucy knee high boots and every accessory is perfect.
I am a unique trendsetter, with royal blue contacts and turquoise and violet streaked locks. i’m wearing a pair of thrift store jeans that i got for $4, a fun little sweater and a hand knitted scarf that is wrapped ‘just-so’.
I am, in reality, without makeup of any kind, except some lemonade lip smackers, and my hair is in a messy bun on the top of my head. i’m wearing a grey Steelers’ sweatshirt and blue snowflake jammie pants and two pairs of socks; one of them decorated with Christmas trees. in reality, i look like fucking hell and feel about as bad. i’m usually bra-less and have a great love of hoodies and pajamas. this.is.reality.
the aforementioned looks and outfits? i would love to see myself in them, but alas, i am usually in jeans and tshirt, hoodie and comfy sneakers; absolutely nothing to write home about. if my life was different, i’d wear any of those other outfits and makeup, on any given day, but, again, alas, it isn’t, and so i don’t. i don’t even have many occasions that a hoodie and jeans ISNT the standard outfit, and so i have fallen into the habit of easy and comfy, mostly all of the time. i’ve fallen so hard into the ‘dressed down’ rut, that people aren’t used to seeing me otherwise, and assume that this is how i’ve always dressed. meanwhile, when i first met Lucas, i was wearing leather pants, and pleather skirts, sleeveless metallic tops, and my favorite of all, knee high, black, lace up ‘fuck me boots’… *thinks back fondly*
what’s worse is that i transformed from a frumpy housewife into a sexy club girl ten years ago. since then, i was told by my boyfriend that i was to get rid of my silver pleather pants, see-through lace tops and uni-sleeved blouses (remember those? everyone was wearing those thin, lycra shirts with only one sleeve, or with shoulder holes cut out? those shirts that looked like toddlers designed them? yeah, those- i had a closet full) and although i met him wearing those kind of things, i was told that i was to never wear any shirts with only one sleeve AGAIN… so out they went…discarded to fashionable homeless people or something. one day when those single-sleeved, metallic WET SEAL (the store and not the seal) blouses come back into style, we’ll all be crying. ok, maybe not. i guess a forty year old mother shouldn’t be wearing slutty goth pants with zippers up the sides of both legs anyways- unless she’s a hooker, stripper or Kim Kardashian. so, my closet is lighter. but all of the club flair has been replaced by cheap tshirts and holey jeans, sweaters and steelers hoodies, and people assume that i’ve always dressed like this, and i’m perpetuating the ‘lesbian stereotype’. i can tell you five things wrong with that statement, but, that is for another post and another day.
the truth of the matter is, those styles that i listed, i love them, and they really ARE me, however, i clean houses, and volunteer, and write- and go to dive bars. and let’s face it, i’m broke. i buy my jeans at Gabe’s and have complained that $12 is too much- so. fashiony-instyle clothes. i rarely go anywhere, so no makeup. and fancy hair and dresses? with this white-girl afro and extremely pear-shaped body? forgetabout it. bottom line is, at the moment, at this point in my life, low key and comfy is the way to go…. and baby- if you could see me right now? you’d agree- that i NAILED it.