One day last week, whilst walking my dog (read: IN PUBLIC), I looked down at myself and truly comprehended what I was wearing: Army green yoga pants (AKA the most unflattering piece of clothing I’ve ever put on my body), a red T-shirt from a Mexican restaurant that I got FREE on Cinco de Mayo (I mean, seriously?), a baggy pink hoodie (it’s Stella McCartney for Adidas, but still), and bright ass sneakers.
And that is what I wore “to work.”
For the record, I have a plethora of cute workout clothes, so I’m still not quite sure how it got this bad, but IRREGARDLESS, I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: I don’t know how you fashion bloggers do it. I don’t know how you get up, do your hair and makeup, put together an amazing outfit, and pose for pictures every damn day. I guess it’s similar to models, except models get to roll out of bed and show up to a photo shoot looking like ass (well, beautiful ass) and a team of people put them together. That….I could actually handle.
Now I’m a beauty(ish) blogger, so while you fashion goddesses are running around town and posing in front of graffiti walls in your runway-worthy ensembles, I’m probably doing something beauty-related like moisturizing my mug, getting my nails done, taking a new fitness class, juicing, protesting Bieber, etc. But I’m doing it with my hair in a
rat’s nest bun, no makeup, and pants with an elastic waistband. Put me in pencil skirt and tell me to look pensive and I will tell you to F off.
Don’t get me wrong—-I do enjoy getting dolled up, dressed up, and having my picture taken, but if I had to do it daily for this blog, I would punch myself in the face. And then we’d have to reschedule the shoot.
I don’t say this with disdain; I truly say it with admiration. I look at style bloggers like I look at ice dancers in the Olympics—I am mesmerized by how they do it, but I have no desire to. So here’s to you, fashion bloggers!
(See, I can put myself together…sometimes.)