Keep Calm and Wear a Tutu: Deb Loves MAC as much as she loves Bright Colors

I don't yet have any concrete rules about what makes an outfit blog worthy. I decided today was a good day because I had planned to go to Zumba with Travis and wanted photo documentation that I looked cute today even after I became a sweaty beast.

But here's the thing I realized friends: MAC. MAKEUP. IS. AMAZING.

While changing back into my work clothes from my sweaty work out clothes I realized my eye make up was still ABSOLUTELY PERFECT. I was astounded as I was SWEATING BALLS in that class. 

Beautiful, no?

No lie, friends, this is EXACTLY what it looked like this morning. And even though none of you were asking I MUST give you my not-so-secret secrets.

MAC Paint: 

I use "Bare Canvas," meaning I can make my eye lids whatever color I want. My go-to eyeshadow is "Naked Lunch" with some fun color in the crease. Today it is a combination of of "Shimmermoss," "Masquerade" and "Honesty."

MAC Fluidline:

When I started wearing makeup with regularity about a month ago I was using an angle brush to apply black eye shadow ("Carbon") as eyeliner. This looked great until around 2pm when half the eye shadow would have relocated to just below my lower lashes, giving me the appearance of a crack whore. So I revisited an old favorite. Fluidline is a paint-like liner that you also apply with an angle brush (though I am lusting after an eyeliner brush). The one drawback is that you pretty much HAVE to wash the brush every time you use it, or else you can't apply a thin enough line. This was obnoxious until I discovered MAC's waterless brush cleaner. SHEER BRILLIANCE.

MAC Haute and Naughty Mascara:

If MAC ever discontinues this mascara I will end my own life. It is the most expensive mascara I've ever owned in my entire life ($19... that's like 3 Chipotle burritos), but the most amazing. I think my eyelashes look borderline fake once it is applied.

To make a short story long, I love MAC makeup. But onto the clothes...

DEB AS AN EASTER EGG.

Turquoise Sweater : Ralph Lauren, courtesy of Marshalls ($15)

Yellow Top: Old Navy ($10)

Brown Skirt: Good Will ($5)

Purple Tights: Lane Bryant ($5)

Boots: Famous Footwear ($50 2 years ago?)

 

I am also wearing these lovely koi earrings which were a gift from my dear friend Leslie. Koi fish are apparently a symbol of beauty (Holla).

 

And then my tried and true antique typewriter "D" necklace. I bought this years ago off of Etsy, right as I was beginning to really enjoy my body and myself. Whenever I put it on I associate it with proudly proclaiming, 

"I am Deb. I am ME!!!!!"

One time I thought I lost this necklace, and I. LOST. MY. SH*T. LIKE. WHOA. 

Luckily I found it, or the world might have ended right then and there and then I wouldn't even HAVE a style section in my little blog.

A scary thought for us all, I'm sure.

Keep Calm and Wear a Tutu: Fun in Home Depot in My Summeriest Dress

On Sunday it was 63 degrees when I left the house, so I decided to bring summer back with my favortiest summeriest dress. I meant to have my dear Nickers take a picture of me frolicking along the rolling grass of Cupcake Hill (aka Larz Anderson Park) but I was so distracted by the joy of sitting on a blanket with the person equivalent of my favortiest dress, eating a pumpkin whoopie pie on a beautiful fall day, that I forgot about taking pictures until we were in Home Depot.

With this metal crown I name myself the Emperor of Home Improvement!!!!

Crown: Home Depot ($20?? I don't know. I didn't actually buy it).

Long-Sleeved V-Neck: Tellos ($10? Maybe? I bought it like a year ago and $10 sounds kind of steep for Tellos.)

Dress: Lord and Taylor ($110. It's one of the things I charged early in the summer, so whenever I am struggling with buying food, I think on this dress and it sustains me. Not really, but wouldn't that be nice?)

Clogs: Born, courtesy of Marshalls like 5 years ago ($40)

Here's a confession. Everytime I think about this dress I wish I owned cowboy boots to go with it. Sadly, cowboy boots aren't really in the budget so I have doctored the picture using SnagIt.

My photoshopping skills are CLEARLY unparalelled. I am practically a graphic designer.

 MAN that dress is cute. Even without the air duct crown and "photoshopped" boots.

Living Within My Means

For those of you who haven't talked to me in a while (and it would have to be a long while since this particular issue has been rather prominently on my mind for quite some time) I have completely stopped using my credit cards. They are tucked safely away in an envelope in Soul Twin's desk where, barring espionage, they can only be obtained with the explanation of some very logical reason why I would need them. Hence, I have embarked on a rather interesting adventure called, "Living Within My Means."

I feel as though I must first explain to you a bit about my financial history. My parents can never make enough money. Meaning that no matter how much they make they never seem to have enough. My father is compulsive in his spending habits, a behavior which vexes my mom, but often complains about having to go on trips to various family members' birthday parties and weddings. My brother makes almost no money but also has no bills. He still wears the same shorts my mom bought him from the good will probably 10 years ago, and when his jeans become too worn he makes them into jean shorts. He owns less and spends less than any human being I've ever met in my whole life. Well, any human being who isn't homeless. 

I got my first credit card in college. I thought, "HEY! Almost Free money!" I would put small purchases on the card; I would pay them back. Then I wanted bigger and bigger things. So I would charge them. Then I couldn't pay them back. So I accrued thousands of dollars in debt. At the end of my senior year of college my dad lent me the money to pay it off, and I paid him back by selling my car before moving to Boston. Then I went to grad school. I lived in dorm housing and then an apartment in the Back Bay. I took out extra loans so I could have more financial "security" (a.k.a. live beyond my means with money that wasn't from a credit card), and yet, even then, I used my credit cards. I graduated from grad school, got my first full-time job, and the first 6 months I couldn't BELIEVE how much money I made. And then I started the loan payments, which I couldn't pay and buy food. So I deferred half of them for 5 years. And then I maxed out my credit cards. Since then I have vacillated between paying them off in huge chunks, and then using the available balance to buy more shit. When I ran out of "real" money it was all right, because I could always afford to take myself out to a nice dinner or buy myself a new purse to ease the pain of my financial stupidity. Then I went on a 6 month spending spree, bought myself a new wardrobe. Then I remembered that in March of 2012 I HAVE to start paying the other half of my student loans. And then it was a month ago. And I now have a whole bunch of clothes, and a renewed sense of my own debt.  So I put myself on a payment plan, gave my credit cards to Soul Twin, all the while thinking, "How hard can this be?"

I would never have said I was addicted to spending money. But now that I must do it in this calculated way, I find that I, in fact, was. The buying of new things, of clothes, of food, it distracted me from my life. A brief feeling of exhilaration, of newness. A feeling that (as I mentioned in my blog about the coat) I would finally be able to be the person I always wanted. Because the person I always wanted to be could have everything she wanted all the time (as though any person really has that luxury).

What I'm saying is, it's so hard to let that go. Because it means I will never get to be that person.

Up until 6 months ago, I dreamed of what it would be like to be thin. I would be able to buy clothes I liked, men would want to date me, I would find the perfect job, I would be able to do a handstand in Yoga class, I would know what I wanted from my life, my dad wouldn't have any guilt, my mom would be happy. It seems so silly to say these things, but I honestly thought if I could be thin, my entire world would be at rights. 

So when I decided I wasn't going to actively try to be thin anymore, and when I decided I was going to instead try to love my body just as it was and is, I was agreeing to accept that all those ideals I had for myself and my life were as impossible as the thinness. 

The bottom line is that no matter how much our consumerist culture wants us to believe otherwise, no one thing will make the business of being a human being in the world any easier. No amount of thinness, or Chipotle burritos, or coats, or skirts can change the fact that there is struggle and that some experiences are pain beyond comprehension. I'm not saying there isn't joy, or even that we shouldn't take joy from having things. But where joy is the truest has nothing to do with physicality, at least not in the way of ownership.

And there is also joy in this surrender. As I let go of the unattainable ideals, I am able to actually sit with myself, to take stock of what I want, what I can do, to take the limitation that is my life and my past, and take my little broken pieces and make them into something I can love right now.

As I relinquish the ideals I have held so long in terms of how my life looks, I start to realize the beauty of things that are unseen and the value of that which costs nothing. 

That sounds so lame and so cliche, but I feel at a loss to express what it is to be faced with my actual life, to express what it feels like to find relief from the burden of impossible desires. It sounds like I've found God or something, but I promise I haven't. These burdens have not been taken away. I have just found relief from the struggle in the struggle. If that makes any sense at all.

Keep Calm and Wear A Tutu: Flowery Shirt from the Good Will (The Beginning of a Blog Within a Blog)

I've been talking about starting a blog of my outfits for about a month now. The reasons are 3-fold.

1) So that I can get free clothes sent to me from distributors.
I read many fat style blogs, and they always talk about getting sent clothes to review. 

Well, I want that to be me.

Dear eShakti, ASOS, Lucie Lu and others, please send me free clothes and I will tell my almost 40 readers how awesome those clothes are, I promise!!

2) Because I'm pretty proud of the outfits I've been putting together.
As I mentioned in my blog about skirts I used to love to dress up. And then I learned to hate my body so I dressed like crap so no one would look at me. And now I've learned to love it again, and I think I look pretty darn cute on any given day, and I want to share that cuteness with the WORLD!

3) Because I am learning to love pictures of myself at my current weight.

I decided on this final reason just last week when Jan took a picture of me sitting on top of a statue that looked like a butt.

After having a mini freakout, I decided the following: I look fat in photos because I am fat. And, in my opinion, one of the best ways to accept and love my fat body is to take full body shots of my fat body in cute clothes, often doing ridiculous things like perching ladylike atop a statue that looks like a butt.

I promise that I will still love things and write about all sorts of feelings on this blog as well. And even if you care not a lick about clothes, you can enjoy looking at pictures of me being cute. And if you don't enjoy looking at pictures of me being cute then EFF YOUR FACE.

But seriously. No offense taken. 

 

Today's outfit features a tunic style top I purchased from the good will while shopping with my friend Elizabeth, paired with some awesome leggings. Ladies at my work are always talking about things they can't wear because they are too old or their bodies aren't good enough. But I decided to listen to Jane Pratt and "DO THIS DON'T." Maybe fat people shouldn't wear leggings as pants. 

BUT MAYBE WE SHOULD.

Here's the Dets...

Flowery Top: Good Will ($5)

Leggings: Macy's ($22)

Booties: Lane Bryant (on sale for $35)

Yellow Necklace (and joy of my soul): Some antique shop in Dorchester ($1)

No lie, friends. When I look at this outfit I am AMAZED BY THE CUTE. I wonder, is that even me? And then I am overjoyed to remember that YES!! IT IS ME!!!!

What? You can't see my butt in this photo? Worry not.

And here's a close up just in case.

Hells to the Yes.

My Hair Today

I have not washed my hair in 4 days. I did not feel like washing it this morning. 

In an effort to conceal this fact I made my hair look like this:

And now I may never wash my hair again.

The Time when You Could Fantasize that Everyone Else's Life was the Same as Yours

When I was in middle school, I wanted to marry Jonathan Taylor Thomas. And by "wanted to" I mean "was going to." He liked the color blue, and his birthday was one day after my best friend Leslie's. He also liked Feta cheese and, though I had never heard of Feta cheese, I liked pizza with cheese on it. Soulmates, duh. JTT was my man. So much so it actually never occurred to me that someone my age would have a boyfriend beyond a celebrity one, especially considering none of my friends had actual boyfriends.

When I was 14 I converted to Christianity, and I was pretty obnoxious about it. Like super obnoxious. (I am now a far cry from a Christian but am pleased and honored to have some of my very best friends in the world actively involved in that belief system, and they all, every day, prove that all Christians are not bigoted d-bags, and I am so grateful for them. If any of my childhood friends are reading this, I am SO SORRY I was so obnoxious, and I no longer even believe in hell let alone am worried you are going there.) I decided it would be more Christian if I did not date (though I harbored a hearty crush on a boy in my Youth Group at church (Outside, anyone?)). This was not uncommon. There were some churchy romances here and there, but overall most of my friends were in love with Jesus.

I remember being at my High School Grad Night with my friend Steve and joking it was my first date (still the best date I've ever been on). I looked forward to college being a plethora of dating opportunities.

It was not.

At least not for me. There was some dating and some hooking up and a wedding, but overall most of my friends were in love with either their instruments (get your mind out of the gutter, I was a music major) or their own singing voices. I graduated from college still never having kissed a man, let alone dated one. But BOSTON! A big(ger) city! New people! New things to do and see! Boston would be my time.

It was not.

After grad school, I worked at my first job. I had a crush on a guy there for a while, because he was just so nice to me. Then I met another man through a friend. I fell for him pretty hard. I don't mean fell like we went on dates and had great sex. I mean I was hopelessly smitten with him, and I thought maybe he felt the same way until he made out with one of my friends. And then he and I stayed friends, and I spent years hoping he would come around and realize he loved me. 

He didn't.

I ended things not so nicely with that man this past summer. I gained (back) 50 pounds. I went on a (still on-going) miraculous journey of self-discovery. I learned to love my body and myself. And here I am . Almost 30. I've been on a few dates here and there, but I've still never been in a relationship with a man. I've never even kissed a man I really liked. I have kissed a fair number I didn't like at all.

I've spent many years coming to terms with my lack of romantic history. It's been a slow process of convincing myself that my lack of experience will not be the always story, and that I am wonderful and lovable and would make a great wife, etc. It has been a process of attempting to attain a seemingly unattainable balance between wanting something different and loving what I have, of not letting my desire turn to desperation, while still acknowledging the huge space it occupies in my heart, even though there is no guarantee it will ever come to fruition. Being a single, almost 30-year-old woman is hard f*cking work let me tell you.

And lately all I see on facebook day after day is profile pictures changing to wedding photos. I am not complaining about going to or being at weddings. Not by any means. But for some reason every time I see the profile picture of someone I haven't talked to in 10 years turn to a picture of them cutting their wedding cake, or standing on a gazebo in ambient light, or looking super happy with their now spouse, I just want to slap myself. Yes, I want to see those pictures. And yes, I want my friends to be happy. But I just miss the time when the only way I would know everyone I had met in my entire life was married would be to run into them on the street. And the likelihood of running into every person I've ever met in my entire life on the street is PUHRETTY slim.

If I look at my life here in Boston, at the people who I talk to and spend time with on a regular basis, those of us that are single still outnumber those that are married. And though I expect these numbers to change over the years, it will be gradual. My single friends will meet men, they will date them, I will meet those men, I will hang out with them as a couple, they will get engaged, I will get notified of these engagements, I will see the rings in person, I will hear about wedding planning, I will get invitations, if schedules permit I will go to these weddings, I will drink and eat and dance, and then, AND ONLY THEN will I see wedding photos. My friends love stories are stories in which I am involved, experiences of which I am aware. I see them struggling to yoke their lives to their significant others, to love those significant others more than themselves without losing themselves, to make time for all the other people and things they love while existing inside something as all-encompassing as romantic love, and I can see that it is all a struggle, comparable to if not greater than my own. 

Facebook is a love story told in montage. We are treated to all the highlights with none of the substance. And for those of us single people it is hard not to see that, not to see person after person getting married and think the oh, so dreaded thought, “What is wrong with me?” 

I suppose I could withdraw from Facebook, but then how would I Facebook stalk my friends potential dates? Facebook stalking is very difficult without Facebook. It just means I am left to self-censor, to unsubscribe from friends who talk too much about weight loss, or weddings, or how their lives are perfect, when it feels like self-preservation to do so, and to dialogue with myself constantly about the truth of my own lovability.

I suppose I am just missing the time when the people I loved, when my close friends and family, were my whole world and that world was small and manageable, and I had a perfect, albeit small, place in it as Jonathan Taylor Thomas's future wife.

Things Deb Doesn't Love: Obsessing Over Things

I don't mean obsessing over something worth obsessing over. One might say I am obsessed with Heath at Every Size, or that I am obsessed with how awesome my friends are, or that I am obsessed with Diane and Heather's wedding and how awesome it is going to be or that I am obsessed with chunky, bearded guys. I freely and happily admit I am obsessed with these things. 

It's when I get obsessed with actual thing-things that I start to get... well... insane. And hence worried.

Recent obsession: this jacket.

Here are the reasons I am in love with this jacket: I have only owned 2 items in khaki my whole life: two pairs of ill-fitting pants I had to wear while I worked at Starbucks. Those pants, by the time my tenure at Starbucks was (thank god) finished were covered in coffee and tear stains. Coffee, from, well, the coffee, and tears from the times I would cry because my manager would tell me I needed to make the coffee drinks faster. Eventually I did. And by "made coffee drinks faster" I mean I made up coffee drinks. I had/have no clue what was supposed to go in half the drinks I made, so I just put in whatever struck my fancy. This was not a good Starbucks career move. They gave me fewer and fewer shifts until I just quit. 

But back to khaki. Whenever Soul Twin wears her khaki trench coat I think, "She looks so classy!" But every time I try on a khaki trench coat and look in a mirror I think, "Well, this isn't me." But did you notice the ruffles? It's a KHAKI TRENCHCOAT WITH RUFFLES. And you know what's all over the back of the coat (which I can't figure out how to capture an image of)? MORE. RUFFLES. When I first saw this on the interwebz I thought, "Huh. I like that." So I emailed it to myself so I could look at it the next day. And then I looked at it the next day (being today), and I have become obsessed with this coat. Literally obsessed.

Let me explain.

I am so obsessed with this coat that I feel if I do not purchase it right now it will be a significant life loss. 

Like if I don't have some sort of guaruntee that this coat will be mine I. WILL. DIE.

Ridic.

Here's the thing: I have recently bought a lot of clothes. Like a lot. I have a spent a lot of money on those clothes. I have almost bankrupted myself buying clothes. And about a week ago, with $1.50 in my bank account (shameful, I know) and my credits cards safely out of my grasp I decided I had to be done buying clothes. Because it was either clothes or food. And I might be slightly addicted to buying dresses, but I also kind of need to eat. So yes, the coat is on sale for $35. But  I could buy a lot of eggs and sprouted grain bread and lentils and veggie sausage and coffee with that. And I can live without that coat, but I can't live without my coffee.

But the point of this post isn't to discuss why I should or shouldn't buy the coat. It's to explore this seemingly manic need I have for things and the belief that these things will change the very definition of who I am. As though if I had a ruffley, khaki trench coat I would have all the classiness of Soul Twin with the all the immature, silliness of myself. As though, if I can just have and wear that coat, I will be my best and truest self. It sounds silly to write this out. But in my gut, I feel it. If I can just look the right way, I will be the right way. I will be put together. Men will want me. Women will want to be me. If I can just have that stupid, ruffley trench coat.

I keep thinking of an early episode of Mad Men when Don Draper gets high with his mistress's hippy friends. When the friends find out he is in advertising, one of them says, "You make the lie. You invent want."

So, I could try to opt out of this want-inventing system. But the (terrifying) reality of the system is that it is inside of me. It is embedded in my psyche: if I can look a certain way, I will be that way. What else would explain a sickening feeling in my stomach when I think about not obtaining a silly coat (a feeling that, even as I prove the silliness of the want, I STILL WANT)? It is overwhelming. 

I have lately been trying to pay attention to what happens in my body before I act compulsively, whether it regards food or coats or whatever. If it is something I do not, in my logical mind, need, how do I convince my huge feeling heart that I do not need it? A brownie or a coat or a new dress or new shoes or a new bike or whatever it may be. In my heart it FEELS like need. 

But it is not need.

Sometimes when I think of the things I want for my life, they are physical things: a condo in JP and children and husband and dog and all that. But sometimes, I just have to tell myself that what I want more than ANY one thing is to feel free from want. And contrary to what our culture would like us to believe, obtaining what we want does not free us from want.

Maybe in a moment of weakness I will buy that coat. And I will forgive myself and enjoy it and move forward if I do. But in the meantime, I will continue to remind myself that the only real freedom from want is truth and joy.

The Truth is that coat will not make my life everything I want it to be.

The Joy is the hope of someday having control over my compulsive behaviors.

And that, my friends, is how you overthink things.

The. End.