(this should have posted a week ago)

Instead of cuts, we have curves, hips, and waists. This is a hard reality friends, but having delivered this dose of realism, here’s the upshot: you have beautiful, resilient bodies, and they are waiting - practically begging and pleading - for you to love them just the way they are. - Josh Klipp, at Original Plumbing.

I have memories of being a little girl, probably six or seven, and thinking that my stomach was too big. Saying to myself, “It’s ok because it’s just baby fat.” When I was eight I began to hate my thighs. In high school I started to resent my arms. By the time I hit college, my body was alien to me. I steadily gained weight, not really thinking about the consequences or the reasons. Looking back, I see that I wanted to hide my breasts and my curves. My stomach getting larger helped make the front of my torso uniform. I didn’t wear sweats all the time, but my clothes were baggier. I hated my rolls and was disgusted with myself, which only led me to put on more weight. All in all, a pretty familiar story in America right now.

Then after college I began to pay attention to clothes for the first time. I found myself drooling over men’s fashion. It was the Tom Ford S/S 2009 collection that did it (which would have been shown in Fall 2008). That took my breath away and made me feel in the pit of my stomach that fashion might be more than I gave it credit for. Sporadically over the next year or so, I’d begin noticing looks I liked and seeking out resources to learn more about this new world. I found different blogs that I still go back to. I found the tips and tricks from GQ helpful (though the editorial is some of the most misogynistic and demoralizing writing I have ever read). I began to specify what pieces, exactly, worked for me and what didn’t. What looks I wanted to emulate and why. I began to have a language. I began to see a point of view and I began to cultivate my own story through my wardrobe.

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