I'm finally realizing who I am... whatever that means. It sounds trite, cliche. But it is what it is... I've been meaning to blog about this for several days, but I continued to put it off because the timing itself felt just as cliche and trite as the concept itself (you know, New Years etc.). But alas, here I am, bored and writing about it.
It it all started with a pair of jeans, well a shit ton of jeans really. You see, I lost about five or so pounds while I was in grad school because cooking for one blows... I learned to snack. Apparently snacking and sipping multiple coffees a day can lead to weight loss. Of course it didn't matter because we got a Noodles and Company my last semester. Combine that with extra stress, and blamo: the five pounds returned! And to continue the never ending trend, I lost it all again... everyone around me was dying so I drank a lot of Mr. Pibb but didn't eat much... and then I lost a few more after coming down with some mystery illness that really just turned out to be an unfortunate side effect of a medication. Needless to say, I had several pairs of jeans in a plethora of sizes. I never knew when I might need the others!
So, what exactly do jeans and "figuring out who you are" have to do with one another. Well, for one thing, it's really difficult to figure out who you are when you can't hammer down a solid weight (seriously, I feel like I'm riding a yo-yo. I'm currently down a few pounds because I lost muscle weight due to a bum knee) let alone a wardrobe. It doesn't help when you look about four year younger than you actually are... I confess; I'm a twenty-six year-old who purchases her jeans from the juniors department. And it most certainly doesn't help when it seems like they're constantly falling apart faster and faster. Solution? Apparently more expensive jeans. It sucks, but realizing the problem wasn't me or how I was doing the laundry made me feel a lot better. It also sent me into a tailspin. I actually cleaned out my closet...
While I was cleaning out my closet, I realized the clothes I was discarding seemed "young" or "college-esque." Everything that remained was either a comfy pullover for weekends or a cardigan (or one of the seemingly endless amount of tank tops that go with the cardigans). Something clicked. I finally realized what I looked good in. Sweaters! Cardigans! I can stop worrying (sort of) about putting weight on because I found pants that fit; I found comfortable yet work appropriate clothes that fit.
My closet actually looks like a closet of a twenty-six year old, and less like a twenty-something with no idea what to wear. I of course will still struggle with "ugly" days, "fat" days, "too skinny" days, or "nothing looks right on me" days. And I'll still get frustrated when that really cute sweater from Macy's doesn't come in a size that's small enough for me. I'll also still get frustrated when people tell me I'm too skinny or this or that. Seriously. I'm fully aware. I don't need a cupcake. I'll take a cookie though, maybe two or three depending on what type... no oatmeal or raisins! And no nuts!
But I digress... at least I'm getting it somewhat figured out, and I'm starting to become at least a little more comfortable with who I am and what I look like. In fact, I'm more comfortable with my looks than I realized.
I thought I didn't know how to do makeup. Every time I put on foundation I thought I looked weird, like it was all wrong. Well, after letting a Clinque lady do my face up, I realized I'm just a Darling woman: I hate makeup. It's funny really. All these years, I thought I was doing it wrong! It turns out I just really hate the look of foundation and most of it's counterparts (I really am like my mother! Eek!). Just don't take my mascara!
Yes, mom, I'm bringing home a lot of clothes when I come home. Don't ask how much either... just be surprised. Love you!