tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2161722887134194702024-03-12T22:01:29.335-07:00Payton PlaceAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06513292621953483673noreply@blogger.comBlogger39125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-216172288713419470.post-78377728809409061602017-02-05T13:55:00.002-08:002017-02-05T13:55:57.826-08:00The Other Dirty "F" Word-Feminism I have been struggling with whether or not to post this blog for quite some time. The wake of the election, and people's reactions to it have stirred up a lot of emotions. The only thing I can speak of is my personal experiences with this phenomenon. So, here it goes.<br />
<br />
I didn't consider myself a feminist until this election. I realize that this statement will raise quite a few eyebrows, considering the main platform my brand is built on is empowering women. <br />
<br />
I didn't realize how much time I spent hating women until this election. I say that knowing that I was definitely wrong in my ways, and having done everything in my power to change. I was definitely not one with the feminine energy as I so preached. I was terribly judgmental, and downright rude to other women.<br />
<br />
From a very early age, I was taught that other women were a threat. Because this was my narrative, I couldn't help but attract that sort of energy into my life. Society enforces that anyone who is prettier, skinnier, or more successful than you must be a "bitch" and we hate her. I was raised to believe in a man supporting you 100 percent, and that you should always put his business before yours.<br />
<br />
This story was so prevalent in my every day life that it might as well have consumed me. Guy friends of mine with jealous and possessive girlfriends had "psycho girlfriends." Not thinking, "Duh, Payton. She's got every right to be insane. He cheats on her left and right! Of course she hates you! She thinks you're banging him!"I sure as hell turned into that girl when I got cheated on!<br />
<br />
I was in a serious relationship with someone who very proudly considered himself a feminist---he was incredibly vocal about this. His version of feminism translated into embarrassing me in public by drunkenly yelling about sex in crowded bars, "because we should be cool about it!" Not standing up for me when I had been wronged, "because you're a strong woman. You can handle it."Not holding the door open for me after we had become exclusive, and it ultimately ended up in turning into him revealing that he had a terrible porn problem, and had been cheating on me nearly the entire length of our relationship with an old girlfriend...who knew about me...and was married. No wonder I thought women were awful. And what kind of feminist subscribes to porn that is filled with violence and name calling? Why would I want to be a part of either of those groups? I then realized that lumping all feminists into the "Angry, bitter, lonely, ugly" feminist group is like thinking all Christians are like those crazy Westboro Baptist folks. There are bad eggs in every community.<br />
<br />
And then this election happened. I witnessed us swearing in someone that has blatantly assaulted women. I finally came to grips with the fact that I was repressing my own abuse of several years, and dealt with it. But, I noticed something starting to shift in me. Maybe it was dealing with my own shit, and maybe it helped that I was finally with someone who is completely supportive, and such a damn gentleman that it hurts, but I started to pay attention to all of the good that women were doing in this world.<br />
<br />
The marches, the woman trying to get families at her kids' school a Christmas, a friend of mine who spent all of her winter trying to help the homeless in camps, the one who owned a female-centric brand that was donating money to all sorts of good causes...all women. I started to embrace the magic that women possess-the empathy we are capable of, and not only our ability to multi task, but the strength to deal with it all!<br />
<br />
I started reaching out to other women who ran their own businesses....I started a group for all of us to meet up and to support each other! This introvert hosts groups now!!! It finally clicked in my head! When women support other women--really, truly support them, magic happens. My books started filling up with high paying gigs , I finally had a network of female friends like I had craved for so long!<br />
<br />
I learned that there is absolutely no wrong way to be a woman. I can dress up, tackle my to do list, bring home some metaphorical vegan bacon, and then fry it up and serve it for my handsome husband! I can be feminine, and powerful, and strong, and soft...all at once. And if another woman wants to live their life in a different manner, and isn't hurting anyone, as a feminist, it's my job to tip my hat and to move on with my life. I mustn't judge! (Side note, a wonderful side effect of accepting this way of my life, and having become so busy is that I don't really have time to think about what other people are doing with their lives! I'm too in to supporting my own tribe, and building my dream life!)<br />
<br />
So, what I'm saying, guys and girls. Is that feminism isn't an awful, dirty word like we are trained to believe. Support your neighborhood girl bosses, and lift each other up. We don't all have to live in this pink, glittery world full of unicorns, and we don't all have to be best friends, but we can all agree on the fact that being a woman right now isn't the easiest path to navigate. Let's be more understanding, and remember at the end of the day, everyone just wants to love, and be loved.<br />
<br />
Signed,<br />
Payton Dale, Feminist.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06513292621953483673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-216172288713419470.post-73169363982135436872016-11-17T08:27:00.001-08:002016-11-17T08:33:13.772-08:00Living Your Most Badass Life Hey, readers.<br />
<br />
Wow! It's been four months since I've sat down to write an entry here. I have been keeping up with my writing, only now it is for magazines, and my own personal journal. So much has changed, and I am excited to share with you!<br />
<br />
A few weeks ago, my sister and I were having lunch together. She turned 21 in August, and was feeling confused and scared about the direction of her life. The pressure to have a life plan in place was starting to take its toll on her, and her demeanor was that of someone about to enter into the ring at a bull fight. I remembered that feeling all too well. <br />
<br />
The moment that best summed up being 21 was when the house that I was renting from a friend, flooded. There was something that went wrong with the washing machine, and the next thing you know, my backyard was a pool of jeans, and the smell of moldy clothes wafted through the air. I sat on the floor of my living room, in the water, drinking vodka from the bottle and crying. I looked back on that memory, and felt an extreme gratitude for it.<br />
<br />
During that time period, I wrote down the life that I truly wanted. My journal entry was three pages, front and back, and I described the home I wanted, the partner of my dreams, the dogs I longed to hear pattering around the house, and the job I wanted so badly that I could taste it. I was determined to make this life mine. With a determined slam of the notebook, I held my head high, and was ready to tackle this plan.<br />
<br />
And then, I lost steam. This is the vicious cycle of the self-help junkie. I took the easy way out. I was broken, and attracted broken people to me. I had this realization that every single failed relationship (romantic, friendly, family) had happened because my pattern of being broken, and attracting people who were only in to being in my life when I was down. My relationships always ended with me trying to better myself, and the person I was with feeling threatened by it, me getting fed up, and walking away.<br />
<br />
And then, a book fell into my hands. "You Are A Badass" by Jen Sincero was recommended to me by my friend Shelby. I started to implement her teachings, and immediately began to notice differences. I removed toxic people from my life. I hired a life coach. My business started to grow. My now husband and I started dating. In a period of seven months, my world is barely recognizable to the one I had at the start of 2016.<br />
<br />
Readers, I woke up today next to the man that meets everything and then some that I described in my journal entry, nearly five years ago. He is kind, and considerate, and gentle, is the most handsome man I've ever laid eyes on, and truly the best friend that I've ever had. We live in a home that is even more beautiful than the one I could have ever described in journal entries. Our precious pups are snoozing in the sun room. I have meetings, and client followups, and a bank account that would allow me to take myself out to a nice lunch if I really wanted it...for someone who used to dig for quarters in her couch to find a few bucks for a cup of coffee, that in itself is remarkable. I walk around my home and look at the kitchen that is bigger than an apartment I once had, and could barely afford to pay for. I smile at our wedding photo that hangs in our beautiful living room. And I feel for the first time in my twenty five years that this is the life that I was meant to have.<br />
<br />
I'm writing this to give a bit of hope to everyone out there that is struggling. I know what it's like to live on beans and rice, and to crash on your friends' couches, to feel alone, even if you're with someone. The feeling of things never getting any better was so comfortable to me, that when they did, I was scared shitless!!! But, I'm here to tell you guys that you've got to start living your life on purpose and WITH purpose.<br />
<br />
So many people let life happen to them, instead of making it work for them. "Oh, I'm stuck here. I hate my job, but this is as good as its gonna get." "I don't really love this person with every fiber of my being, but it's better than being alone." "I really wanted to be a (dancer, writer, nurse, photographer, teacher) but it'll never happen..." Cut that shit out. You are going to die one day. It's time you start living like it.<br />
<br />
Get your hands on that book, or any book that will help change the way you look at life. Hire a life coach by any means necessary. Start a meditation practice. Get an accountability partner. Download the 5 Minute Journal app, and start each day with it (It has you write down the three things you're grateful for, your intention for the day, and affirmations) Write down your dream life game plan, and do something small every day to chip away at it. For me, it's planning the next Fashion Friday videos, following up with clients, researching the latest trends...for my mind, it's writing and meditating, for my home, it's cleaning a little something every day so it doesn't pile up...the life you want is attainable, but you have to be willing to do the work for it, and to divorce yourself from the mediocre life you once knew. It's terrifying, and it's hard work, but it must be done.<br />
<br />
I love you, guys.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm_AxZJt_hweqcgoWFg5soOfZcWJ3KE-2j8VYIE1EYg5QKflLXaWzgAJD30FOU2URzAybuw9TfrNjr9cKkHq9VvqvxG8wTO3FLwUwrL1KTnxqSB9IG5aXivL8PKUzP51S5Tv6d1Gl5YmI/s1600/14317418_10153751282585877_3227948006408718406_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm_AxZJt_hweqcgoWFg5soOfZcWJ3KE-2j8VYIE1EYg5QKflLXaWzgAJD30FOU2URzAybuw9TfrNjr9cKkHq9VvqvxG8wTO3FLwUwrL1KTnxqSB9IG5aXivL8PKUzP51S5Tv6d1Gl5YmI/s320/14317418_10153751282585877_3227948006408718406_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06513292621953483673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-216172288713419470.post-7905713820626810372016-07-25T11:20:00.001-07:002016-07-25T11:33:00.335-07:00Beauty Products I Love: Summer 2016Hey, readers!<br />
<br />
Like I mentioned in this week's Fashion Friday, it's the middle of summer in Nashville...and it's hot. Like breathing soup when you walk outside hot.<br />
<br />
This Spring, I made a deal with myself. I told myself that I would start investing my money into self care--I now have higher quality cosmetics that are just as much fun as they are better for my skin, and I even have a day time and a night time routine to care for my skin. In my journey, I've learned what works and what doesn't work for my face and hair. I thought I would pass these along!<br />
<br />
<b>Elizabeth Mott's Thank Me Later eye primer.</b><br />
I discovered Elizabeth Mott on a whim. Amazon suggested this relatively new brand to me after my search for cruelty free cosmetics. The company will send you free samples in the mail for you to try before you buy! I was on the search for a new eye primer, so I had them send me this one. It's been a GODSEND, you guys! I am fairly oily, and most of the higher selling primers leave my lids feeling greasy. I can't wait to purchase more of her products in the future. This keeps my shadow and liner on all day.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijq-A1WJBuBnl1EK-iu7vVMIy6gjNG-h_3IxzYQplCgSxro1U1D_7o93XLwFmlC93FzaC9X2ZyAZwoaeT1P323_3zVcqlrePHv1f677PZ4ZMp6Wai5vYSqFukAINPgwJy1kd5cRVOFLEM/s1600/Thank_Me_Later_full_size_grande.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijq-A1WJBuBnl1EK-iu7vVMIy6gjNG-h_3IxzYQplCgSxro1U1D_7o93XLwFmlC93FzaC9X2ZyAZwoaeT1P323_3zVcqlrePHv1f677PZ4ZMp6Wai5vYSqFukAINPgwJy1kd5cRVOFLEM/s320/Thank_Me_Later_full_size_grande.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<b>Not Your Mother's Beach Babe Sea Salt Spray</b><br />
I picked up a sample of this at Ulta the other day when I went in for shampoo. My hair is that awkward in between not curly, but not straight texture, and the roots get greasy while the ends will dry out quickly. In the summertime, it's not been easy to go for the effortless bedhead look that I lean towards in the less humid months without looking like Phil Spector's wig. You know the one. After I shampooed and used a Moroccan oil serum in my hair, I let it air dry, and then wrapped the front sections of my hair with a 1 inch curling iron. I then flipped my head over, sprayed fairly liberally with this product, and flipped back up. A few scrunches, and I was ready to go. It's been going strong for two days without feeling crunchy or stiff.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPjOb3r8aoP2vt-aUr2ia-8oYc8D_Fjvz5HRgeRrdXgj5YVkkHwwolrGHm4rML3Sg1rqy86cZP9HROkB6mxXvZlIkNBw7qlzgEaDvR34yhE7anIfSZwCz8fJc3wcAcBF7uCzi8rNbQe-E/s1600/2340593.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPjOb3r8aoP2vt-aUr2ia-8oYc8D_Fjvz5HRgeRrdXgj5YVkkHwwolrGHm4rML3Sg1rqy86cZP9HROkB6mxXvZlIkNBw7qlzgEaDvR34yhE7anIfSZwCz8fJc3wcAcBF7uCzi8rNbQe-E/s320/2340593.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<b>Trestique highlighter sticks</b><br />
So, something else I would really suggest is getting the Ipsy bag. I get samples (and most of my bag this month were full size products) sent right to my mailbox every month of well known and some not so well known brands. You take a quiz when you sign up to insure that you will actually like your products. Mine are all cruelty free brands as well! Bonus! Anyway, I am fairly new to the whole highlight thing. I know I'm late in the game. I always ended up going overboard and either looking like I had white circles under my eyes like I had laid out in the sun in giant goggles, or looked like someone could have drilled for oil on my face. Not cute. These sticks are highly pigmented, but just the right amount of sheen, are easily blendable, and are foolproof when it comes to application. I was really impressed, and will definitely buy this product in full size when this one runs out.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkbPVvffwjOtkYhj2MQCi6KrFYe8yusFTNlhGMafCho1Q8wnJE-RLByB3vEGAqewqM_7fvr9D3N2yC6LuQhM36dAo8_Ats0AXRMg_gvIDCamNw3Y3PNo47X_1Sr3cG9sq_98i52X78efc/s1600/skudetail_highlightstick_trestique.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkbPVvffwjOtkYhj2MQCi6KrFYe8yusFTNlhGMafCho1Q8wnJE-RLByB3vEGAqewqM_7fvr9D3N2yC6LuQhM36dAo8_Ats0AXRMg_gvIDCamNw3Y3PNo47X_1Sr3cG9sq_98i52X78efc/s320/skudetail_highlightstick_trestique.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<b>Smashbox Photo Finish Primer</b><br />
This was another sample that I picked up while waiting in line at Sephora. The green color is quick to throw most off, but since I am fair and have uneven skin with some redness, I knew that the green would remove the ruddiness from my complexion. I was really impressed with how a little bit went a long way. Combined with a finishing spray on top of my base makeup, my face won't budge all day!<br />
Pick up a sample at your local Ulta or Sephora. It's half the cost, and will last you forever!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijprBhg-l4vF0gbCAjCooaST_aUfSTiBqmK3mgm0suDHNUGsf0g5Ww0t8_ryadn3XMbnNx58nb41CIuJPsJ3wddOGl54eMmY_SJomOo7X0fqceMyIhMNnYw-K6YAqHW6Iv5YYG7hVz9hQ/s1600/1285966_fpx.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijprBhg-l4vF0gbCAjCooaST_aUfSTiBqmK3mgm0suDHNUGsf0g5Ww0t8_ryadn3XMbnNx58nb41CIuJPsJ3wddOGl54eMmY_SJomOo7X0fqceMyIhMNnYw-K6YAqHW6Iv5YYG7hVz9hQ/s320/1285966_fpx.jpg" width="261" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Those are my current go-to favorites to get me through the rest of the months. I really do suggest looking into upping your routine in the summer time. I have always felt disgusting during the hot season in Nashville. It's really hard to feel and look your best when it's hotter than Satan's butthole, but that's still no excuse to stop trying to put your best face forward. Plus, you deserve to take that time out to do something nice for you. Maybe for some of you, that's makeup, or maybe it's meditation. For me, it's both. Do you, readers. Do you.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIdNZPgiUeSpWk-UlHLmrjT9SoCfVshFMK-qo8Ymu1sYZ9sFoMIUv-5ny-c09IYhKMEla8OW-OnLyImk9A2tzqgjiUgjk317k1nPyxHinxQPp0TADCtBr9G1nhp4u8NjxOzAGvrjKy5sY/s1600/13769454_10153622364360877_7880511119397561472_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIdNZPgiUeSpWk-UlHLmrjT9SoCfVshFMK-qo8Ymu1sYZ9sFoMIUv-5ny-c09IYhKMEla8OW-OnLyImk9A2tzqgjiUgjk317k1nPyxHinxQPp0TADCtBr9G1nhp4u8NjxOzAGvrjKy5sY/s320/13769454_10153622364360877_7880511119397561472_n.jpg" width="256" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
When it all comes together...</div>
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06513292621953483673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-216172288713419470.post-20291240903307117792016-07-19T20:08:00.000-07:002016-07-19T20:17:47.762-07:00What Goes Around Comes Around: Summer Trends and the Original Inspiration Hey, readers!<br />
<br />
As we approach the end of July in Nashville, I am counting down the days until we have reached fall weather! Summer is my least favorite time of the year, and honestly the season I have the fewest outfit options for. I can't stand the hot and humid weather! But, I have found ways to style myself that are casual, and I find that I'm not entirely melting by the end of the day. As many of you know, I love to incorporate vintage pieces in with modern ones. I feel like this is not only the best way to save some dough, but also the most fun way to get unique items for less! Fashion comes and goes in twenty year cycles. That's why the 90's are back in a huge way. I have found that it is friendlier to my wallet and the Earth to try and track down the OG items instead of investing in new ones. Here are a few of this season's latest trends that I have managed to find for less.<br />
<br />
<b>OFF THE SHOULDER TOPS</b><br />
I am seeing these EVERYWHERE lately. I feel like everyone is trying to do something outside the box with this trend. These were huge in the 70's, therefore, big in the 90's, and here we are today. I am seeing tops like this retail in boutiques for $60 and up. Here's one I found online. It's from the 70's, in brand new condition, and only retails for $22. Plus, no one else will have this one! I have an off the shoulder top that was actually a wedding dress I cut up. I always get compliments on it.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghSHV4O4kNxQXvmgq9OXPYs7P-rBulQtFj3_r5qS6GpXPb8usBFOO5ESTUYVSAYzOSH-9sAfWR2vjEU5eFRekF3tpfpijoR6O0A6g6FoFWa996KoknF2vGghoe6n0sfXeJC5SW0OzyJjA/s1600/il_570xN.1037741255_oh6g.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghSHV4O4kNxQXvmgq9OXPYs7P-rBulQtFj3_r5qS6GpXPb8usBFOO5ESTUYVSAYzOSH-9sAfWR2vjEU5eFRekF3tpfpijoR6O0A6g6FoFWa996KoknF2vGghoe6n0sfXeJC5SW0OzyJjA/s320/il_570xN.1037741255_oh6g.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfgpfwc518VrvE1xs2M4pLCdQWT3ObogHYdA7BWx8lEd7TIQ_GG4XX6IZndcETOqI4CoDAuTsPfL8JNHI7I7gdcXgzgosd5nmBc9elGwf8bMkDKwYyS3nkgKavdFjgtNH1EaDAqY3xVX0/s1600/jane-birkin-crop-top-69.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfgpfwc518VrvE1xs2M4pLCdQWT3ObogHYdA7BWx8lEd7TIQ_GG4XX6IZndcETOqI4CoDAuTsPfL8JNHI7I7gdcXgzgosd5nmBc9elGwf8bMkDKwYyS3nkgKavdFjgtNH1EaDAqY3xVX0/s320/jane-birkin-crop-top-69.jpg" width="299" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Jane Birkin rocks TWO trend this season: The crop top and the off the shoulder. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<b>MATCHING SEPARATES </b></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
These have been trending quite a bit. Lots of celebs are choosing to go all "matchy-matchy" on us. But, I assure you that your local thrift store or vintage boutique, you will find something similar for a fraction.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBmIT6Cgx_tDVm6uI62KwPx998nFzmdBsWItunkcGjU81JFyabw_8nrWdyjwcGa7xiXvggR9EeDqjWZg0CtLkhRvaiR_nWgWujPqrfdYU4GvePmNdJjn0Mx41EKV0pq84o1MG3HCtJgtw/s1600/matching_separates.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBmIT6Cgx_tDVm6uI62KwPx998nFzmdBsWItunkcGjU81JFyabw_8nrWdyjwcGa7xiXvggR9EeDqjWZg0CtLkhRvaiR_nWgWujPqrfdYU4GvePmNdJjn0Mx41EKV0pq84o1MG3HCtJgtw/s320/matching_separates.png" width="305" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
The OG Matching separate gang:</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRE0zPz7Lxarc40dtVItf_66QO5FfYYc77HNNRofgRzewDjoMyWbKUORmE0g-IYW7RpHR4sd9FIJS-KM4MlHCz653GDc6zA2njQhOhESFhkDEAQDu9Yp0OQGCv5Pnk1bqg_6VJlYsqtHM/s1600/cher-dee.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="257" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRE0zPz7Lxarc40dtVItf_66QO5FfYYc77HNNRofgRzewDjoMyWbKUORmE0g-IYW7RpHR4sd9FIJS-KM4MlHCz653GDc6zA2njQhOhESFhkDEAQDu9Yp0OQGCv5Pnk1bqg_6VJlYsqtHM/s320/cher-dee.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
You can find matching sets from the 90's starting at $25 online! Channel your inner Dion and Cher.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<b>GLADIATOR SANDALS</b></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
I love gladiator sandals. I really do. No shame. I know that they're a dividing shoe, but these had a momeny a few years ago, as well as a few decades ago! I wore a pair of 1970's gold knee high pair to my senior dance, and people gave me looks. Guess I was just ahead of the curve. I only paid $15 for mine at a second hand store!</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnawFsC8bgtpnINyKpPpy5vs8_87fCaeOzscBe5y_qJoo8dRn0b4PUUiKnuCzQD0ZQ4QYmIfKBxKhPxVIiueVzk9DTX3hK4-0X5g3i2oqJ4p-fYgkFkvvSx8zI1dbWahVVXFwjY91xYYQ/s1600/2d03e826b5f1af7c9eb9f074ce0ddcb4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnawFsC8bgtpnINyKpPpy5vs8_87fCaeOzscBe5y_qJoo8dRn0b4PUUiKnuCzQD0ZQ4QYmIfKBxKhPxVIiueVzk9DTX3hK4-0X5g3i2oqJ4p-fYgkFkvvSx8zI1dbWahVVXFwjY91xYYQ/s320/2d03e826b5f1af7c9eb9f074ce0ddcb4.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZFFFqprGRDhrbbu0I0AKv3uwgJP7O22xOtD5lNiawldUJuRdvrqPvwvYuhgS-S9fN84jJKW_t2eFLJScRCLYpn3pHRQ381oAnhjlBM4rz6X5BOdpMD0BCAOJCY2sYDvDMi2Q8IrdD2Pc/s1600/Pattie+vs+Jenny+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="308" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZFFFqprGRDhrbbu0I0AKv3uwgJP7O22xOtD5lNiawldUJuRdvrqPvwvYuhgS-S9fN84jJKW_t2eFLJScRCLYpn3pHRQ381oAnhjlBM4rz6X5BOdpMD0BCAOJCY2sYDvDMi2Q8IrdD2Pc/s320/Pattie+vs+Jenny+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Former Supermodel sisters Jenny and Pattie Boyd had these gorgeous purple suede gladiators that I have been lusting over for years. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
So, readers, as you can clearly see, there are no new ideas in fashion. People keep reinventing the wheel and slightly tweaking it. I love seeing how designers come up with new ways to do so, and how people on the street interpret their creations. What trends do you love this season? What are you so ready to be rid of? Comment below! </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06513292621953483673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-216172288713419470.post-83610200540504377362016-07-07T10:31:00.000-07:002016-07-07T10:31:01.290-07:005 Things A Man Should Have In His Closet By 25Hey, readers!<br />
<br />
After my last post, I had a few requests to do the same for the gentlemen! So, here we go. The top 5 things I think a man should have in his closet by 25!<br />
<br />
Let me preface this post by saying one thing. I don't think everyone should dress the same. These pieces will mean different things to different people. But, here are the building blocks to point you in the right direction of being able to find your own unique sense of style.<br />
<br />
<b>ONE. A well tailored suit.</b><br />
When I say "suit" most of you all will cringe and think of those baggy things your dad wears when he has to dress up. I always feel like a suit that doesn't fit makes you look like you are playing dress up in your dad's clothes. I prefer a man in a suit that looks a bit more 60's mod-very fitted and usually with some fun color and patterns brought in with ties and shirts, but this could mean whatever you want it to mean! While basic black is best to start your suit collection, have fun with it. Shop off season to save even more money on these. I assure you that this is a purchase you will not regret. My personal favorites for men's suits right now are local Nashville designer named Eric Adler and Roxenstone. They incorporate really unique patterns and textures in with very classic tailoring. It looks modern, yet won't look dated in a few years.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigI5z_7UIFT9pckLyK86IvN0_R2ubmxxRtA1sXcej7ZUywpE8uwsFqLkCq5TIVnxJHQTKvzBpfpB5oCbnw4IUhzCiSxON4LO3OWNE1Fhzm_Mt5M34HBdMFW470LcZpfNaRWRzM1gUUoS8/s1600/eric-adler-fall-collection-maple-double-breasted-blazer.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigI5z_7UIFT9pckLyK86IvN0_R2ubmxxRtA1sXcej7ZUywpE8uwsFqLkCq5TIVnxJHQTKvzBpfpB5oCbnw4IUhzCiSxON4LO3OWNE1Fhzm_Mt5M34HBdMFW470LcZpfNaRWRzM1gUUoS8/s320/eric-adler-fall-collection-maple-double-breasted-blazer.jpg" width="212" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf9NWZWaTZuDdglphvSmXm4YfSl9lTNEUOQDXl6xZauHpnOqW5DNQNDnZHDy15_JK5-nsSA259EkBpYiy1UhuBYhZiwvcOQOXKgtG1RjxqPMQbZ7PyvX5O8EjK9kwGd0XyWNVN4Rj97F4/s1600/7B.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf9NWZWaTZuDdglphvSmXm4YfSl9lTNEUOQDXl6xZauHpnOqW5DNQNDnZHDy15_JK5-nsSA259EkBpYiy1UhuBYhZiwvcOQOXKgtG1RjxqPMQbZ7PyvX5O8EjK9kwGd0XyWNVN4Rj97F4/s320/7B.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<b>TWO. Well fitted, high quality jeans.</b></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Stop buying your jeans at Old Navy. You're a man now. You deserve to dress like one. Figure out what cut and wash works best for your body type. Lots of stores like Levi's, Lucky, and even a few boutiques have denim experts on hand to assist you in your hunt. Go to places like Nordstrom Rack to get deals on a name brand if you can. Not all denim is created equally. You will wear these more than anything else. Use the cost per wear formula to figure out if the purchase is worth it. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqeOTbyLae100HqjL-Wy4afG0DZspLh2uhUN8zweclEoavZmZHhCmQCckZosZdGr36Qrz5LisMKIhgW3ieMWT1icdFxTk4n9lQzlw0rfUVZyFfXUY_T9vhmGX2opCkv1W5aQhfjYRHBqg/s1600/12a25a25facfe944dabeceba80887562.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="165" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqeOTbyLae100HqjL-Wy4afG0DZspLh2uhUN8zweclEoavZmZHhCmQCckZosZdGr36Qrz5LisMKIhgW3ieMWT1icdFxTk4n9lQzlw0rfUVZyFfXUY_T9vhmGX2opCkv1W5aQhfjYRHBqg/s320/12a25a25facfe944dabeceba80887562.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<b>THREE. T-shirts without an ironic message on them.</b></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Fellas, we are adults now. Please stop wearing shirts that are meant to be funny, dirty, or ironic. The crime is worse if these shirts came from Hot Topic, Target, or the like. Instead, replace your go-to casual pieces with either plain, high quality cotton (It's OK to invest in these as well) or a cool band t-shirt. (Also, for fun, google Ironic t-shirt and see how many mugshots come up!)</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<b>FOUR. Button downs that your mom didn't buy you. </b></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
We all know that your mom will buy you ill fitting shirts from Kohl's to stick under the Christmas tree. Avoid these at all costs. Seriously, most moms mean well...we love you, moms. Fellas, learn how to buy your own dress shirts. You will need these for the office, or for date night. Learn how to care for these, and invest in an iron while you're at it! My favorites for men are Paul Smith, The Kooples, and Ben Sherman. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<b>FIVE. A tailor.</b></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
OK, so don't keep your tailor in your closet, but you get the drift. Not everyone is going to be the same size or shape that the clothes on the racks are made. And that's OK! A tailor is the difference in making your $100 suit look like $1000...From George Clueless to George Clooney. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
What do you think you need in your wardrobes, guys? I'd be curious to hear. And now, just because he was the sharpest man of all time, here's a photo of Cary Grant for you to swoon over.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgflw551kt3IG3dipI3m9_HgDna4zmvrt1mxXkkGGujrs-vzHGE6yLZEPpRRd-BERMRecY9nOZmbyirsjuJqkQgfNh_nJJO71-PDS5gFQNBOG1hXlS6hBCSVRI1KecBjHjwrY1ij9JWmMg/s1600/3834082704_46e81f2c52.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgflw551kt3IG3dipI3m9_HgDna4zmvrt1mxXkkGGujrs-vzHGE6yLZEPpRRd-BERMRecY9nOZmbyirsjuJqkQgfNh_nJJO71-PDS5gFQNBOG1hXlS6hBCSVRI1KecBjHjwrY1ij9JWmMg/s320/3834082704_46e81f2c52.jpg" width="232" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06513292621953483673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-216172288713419470.post-53132832783114279692016-07-05T09:19:00.002-07:002016-07-05T09:21:46.754-07:005 Items Every Woman Should Have In Her Closet By 25Hi, readers!<br />
<br />
I turn 25 in September. It's coming up soon!<br />
<br />
As I reflect back on the last decade of my style (around 15 is when I really got in to expressing myself with clothing) I think about how I have evolved in my wardrobe choices, mistakes I have made, I thought I would share what I believe every woman should have in her wardrobe by the time she hits a quarter of a century!<br />
<br />
<b>ONE. A really nice, tailored blazer.</b><br />
Now, I have a far cry from a desk job, but I found myself gravitating towards suits in the last few years. I really love how a woman looks in a tailored suit. I found a black Gucci blazer at an auction for a whopping $4.00. I wear it all the time, and it has definitely paid for itself. I even did a Fashion Friday video based around how to wear it with a vintage band t-shirt. This is one you want to splurge on. None of that disposable H&M or Forever 21 stuff. You're an adult now. You deserve to dress like one.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1BGvy4HlbRJeEQcc1izetPntp7icterOkqjjtRjbw2AGX1-56eWlbZ8uNMPb4cOGxVAaCCETPhaCiUCjU5dtZGJrogh3h_pWMbAc4XcgHu-zwzyeq2AVDzzT2ZyRS_7g64QGh401NEa8/s1600/5236_10153220036730877_6895089435462924457_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1BGvy4HlbRJeEQcc1izetPntp7icterOkqjjtRjbw2AGX1-56eWlbZ8uNMPb4cOGxVAaCCETPhaCiUCjU5dtZGJrogh3h_pWMbAc4XcgHu-zwzyeq2AVDzzT2ZyRS_7g64QGh401NEa8/s320/5236_10153220036730877_6895089435462924457_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkwlaOZkz7Kdrar5A-aR-y3bnACWm52CmdFIomG4Z5VCnjnDAaqdQsvt64QNco1h8EkxuvvC3nlvsv4Txn0Wv5w3Hxk-lIAhHA0ZAlhht4IcB-siVvg2BHRXoaU6EbDgJVWTQOnU-jgOw/s1600/12348160_10153175298930877_4631810559093167469_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkwlaOZkz7Kdrar5A-aR-y3bnACWm52CmdFIomG4Z5VCnjnDAaqdQsvt64QNco1h8EkxuvvC3nlvsv4Txn0Wv5w3Hxk-lIAhHA0ZAlhht4IcB-siVvg2BHRXoaU6EbDgJVWTQOnU-jgOw/s320/12348160_10153175298930877_4631810559093167469_n.jpg" width="256" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
This incorporates several pieces I speak about! Fitted blazer, high quality vintage designer bag, and jeans that fit! </div>
<br />
<b>TWO. A high quality bag.</b><br />
I really like vintage designer bags. I am really geeky about the history of different fashion houses, and tend to lean towards the 70's styles (shocker) Shopping vintage is a way to get high quality for next to nothing. My collection has grown over the last few years. I have around five bags that I can wear with every single outfit for any occasion. My vintage Louis Vuitton was a gift, but still cost only as much as a strap for a new bag costs from the company! Vintage is also a wonderful way to not support buying new leather. If designers aren't your thing, then invest in a high quality, basic tote that you can take everywhere. You can always change it up by tying a scarf on the handles!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho6btnI2NqWrv1t74PJsZneum8p8ULZQgbVm77UmFz5DPlZeitRlonALlvX-bylmMNVyZObetrEpHJuPGZIeSq5Bwe73dqH_SZtex_qgzV6bmyvVakUaANa3WHmaeJLoPliM7mFSeKiRQ/s1600/13265946_10153499841000877_7522366336001545847_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho6btnI2NqWrv1t74PJsZneum8p8ULZQgbVm77UmFz5DPlZeitRlonALlvX-bylmMNVyZObetrEpHJuPGZIeSq5Bwe73dqH_SZtex_qgzV6bmyvVakUaANa3WHmaeJLoPliM7mFSeKiRQ/s320/13265946_10153499841000877_7522366336001545847_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<b>THREE. Jeans that fit! Really!</b><br />
I lived in flowy vintage (and usually flammable) dresses for years. They are still my go-to in the summer time. However, as I've matured and worked in this industry for a while now, I find myself reaching for my jeans more than ever! Having a short torso and long legs made it difficult to shop for jeans, but after doing some research and finding my fits I like (Paige and Rachel Zoe) I know my sizes, and can score them on the sales racks for $30 usually! I wear them nearly every single day. And a dark wash, high quality jean that fits is always going to make you look more polished than a spandex based light wash. I promise! I have boyfriend and skinny jeans in my closet, but I am always a fan of a mid-rise flare. They're classic and universally flattering.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBySXxLAdWV08iBsliodpRxjDw6h8d4L8EvC10XXlHiBr9Yq5D_dmacr9mrrRscUgIP6y6XRpdpKCNns692PIg4_OmO3ZktlQzp0zsOB7TYjhzGX1sOR1Vl_7z7HCtKlOwyym82oONqUo/s1600/12573744_10153238804100877_4453422764824402550_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBySXxLAdWV08iBsliodpRxjDw6h8d4L8EvC10XXlHiBr9Yq5D_dmacr9mrrRscUgIP6y6XRpdpKCNns692PIg4_OmO3ZktlQzp0zsOB7TYjhzGX1sOR1Vl_7z7HCtKlOwyym82oONqUo/s320/12573744_10153238804100877_4453422764824402550_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<b>FOUR. A dress (or outfit) that you know works for a formal event.</b><br />
If I had to go to a wedding, funeral, or red carpet event this evening, I would have something to wear. My go-to formal dress is this gorgeous purple vintage Halston wrap dress that I got at a thrift store of all places! I've posted that several times on here. I recently was given a jersey stretch black jumpsuit that has been worth its weight in gold. I've worn it without a jacket, with a blazer, with a tassle belt, and have managed to make it work in six different scenarios. If it's a suit, a wrap dress, or a jumpsuit, you should have something in your arsenal that you can throw in a suitcase and go.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnOMCQN0GRaJy5AQGi2QQqmkkbFWBOQXO6bisxP8hpjmlEj3WHXFz90_017zieMJK1ZDMgHHMExIFZVgY1M1Y7PfD-Q11vn41jOVXtSLzWJLrZiFn8K5FDO2rUIA1vvKhfevTjZl2Wk5g/s1600/12924525_10153414998275877_1251081944932995096_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnOMCQN0GRaJy5AQGi2QQqmkkbFWBOQXO6bisxP8hpjmlEj3WHXFz90_017zieMJK1ZDMgHHMExIFZVgY1M1Y7PfD-Q11vn41jOVXtSLzWJLrZiFn8K5FDO2rUIA1vvKhfevTjZl2Wk5g/s320/12924525_10153414998275877_1251081944932995096_n.jpg" width="256" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
This year's Fashion Week red carpet. Fitted blazer with sequin detail over the black jumpsuit, a vintage gold glitter clutch, and the leopard boots from the first photo. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<b>FIVE. Knowledge.</b></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
It's crazy how fast trends come and go. The second that something comes out on the runway, fast fashion retailers have a knock off on their shelves. I say that every woman should have knowledge about what goes into her closet for a multitude of reasons. Do you know who is making your clothes? Is it a big box retailer making profit off of people in sweat shops? Is it a small business in your community? Is it a designer who's doing everything themselves? Do you know how to care for your clothing to make sure they last? Are you purchasing something that will end up in a landfill at the end of the season? Or making a purchase that will be worn for years to come? As we get older, we need to realize that we vote with our dollars. Fewer high quality pieces will always be better than a closet full of crap that no one cares about. It will limit the "I have nothing to wear" scenario, and will make you feel better. Ask questions. Where are these clothes coming from? What are the conditions of the workers in the factory? What is this made of? It's fascinating! I look forward to saving for pieces to invest in, rather than going to the mall every weekend to throw away $15 on something everyone else will have! Find out who the local designers are in your town. They make the best (and most interesting) friends!</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXA73bD5JRSvrfPklkAVx0YHLhB0NVPY4NEkyyMN1BvYAil8zzX2Z2eBzBLdoS70-TR_uht7YwDpemMGr_hX009DZt7VoPBieZ1_KX6ZqdWoJrGupwsY0_0vsM0FuYAEjsctPN_U4E6b0/s1600/12924567_1726587247586213_9093916061046988619_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXA73bD5JRSvrfPklkAVx0YHLhB0NVPY4NEkyyMN1BvYAil8zzX2Z2eBzBLdoS70-TR_uht7YwDpemMGr_hX009DZt7VoPBieZ1_KX6ZqdWoJrGupwsY0_0vsM0FuYAEjsctPN_U4E6b0/s320/12924567_1726587247586213_9093916061046988619_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
What do you think you should have by 25? What about what you should ditch? Comment below! </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06513292621953483673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-216172288713419470.post-53944017772445681392016-06-14T20:02:00.005-07:002016-06-15T07:08:51.475-07:00What They Don't Tell You About Chasing Your Dream"Follow your bliss."<br />
<div>
"Do what you love, and the money will follow."</div>
<div>
"Leap out into the abyss, and a net will appear."</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I'm sure that you have heard all of these expressions before. These sayings are about as commonplace in the self-help community as green juice and yoga mats. They are also things I repeat to myself on a regular basis. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
But, I'm here to tell you the honest to God truth about following your passion. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
1) It's the hardest thing you'll ever do.</div>
<div>
2) If you follow through, it's the most rewarding.</div>
<div>
3) You are 100% responsible for your own happiness and your life. And that is terrifying. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I have been working on the vision I have for myself for the last seven years. I've had the worst day jobs, terrible clients, and have had negative twenty dollars to my name. I've developed health problems, had my electricity turned off, and have lost my home twice due to my never ending quest for Payton as I see her. I've had people tell me that I was certifiably insane, and have lost friends and family members over it.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Becoming who you are is a growing process. It hurts. And it has moments where it sucks. And I'm here to talk about those times now.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
We live in a world where people think that things just "happen" for other people. This is due to two things, I believe. The first being social media, and the other is people's subconscious desire to be mediocre, because that's all they've ever known. Hear me out.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Social media is meant to be people's highlight reels. We often make the mistake of comparing the footage we left on the cutting room floor to other people's best ofs. I am so guilty of doing this! Oh, so-and-so just did something I want to do, has the relationship I want, or just bought a house! Here I am still renting a home, and feeling like crap, and I think I may be getting fat again and...and...and..what? It's second nature to compare ourselves to others. When I hear my friends do this, I want to take out a spray bottle and spritz them in the face like you would an animal you're trying to train. One of my favorite stylists has this approach she uses with her clients when they're unhappy with something. It's called the "Yes!...and?" Approach. "That person has smaller thighs than I do." "Yes! And?" "And? I want thighs like that.." "Ok, what are you willing to do to change your habits to attain what you want? Working out? Negative self talk? A healthy lifestyle?" Most people get lost in the "yes" and forget to add the "and!"</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I've tried to be as real as possible on my social media feeds for this reason. You'll see on today's post a photo of awkward pre-pubescent Payton. I'll have videos of me making a fool of myself. I will talk openly about my struggles with BDD, overcoming eating disorders, and depression. Because when we are willing to own up to our bullshit, we can help others own theirs, and potentially help them heal. I also do this to talk about the struggles that we all face as human beings. I think that once we find out that the beautiful, thin woman who seems to have everything going for her-great clothes, an exciting life full of travel, or whatever she has that you want is a person with her own demons, it makes her human. It connects us. Unites instead of divides, if you will.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The other thing that is my biggest annoyance is the fact that most people want to be miserable deep down. This is on a subconscious level usually. I used to be one of these people, and on days when it's really difficult, I struggle to not fall back into the comfortable patterns that I used to cling to like the old jeans that fell off my hips. I'm talking about the "I can't make money doing this." "If I were going to be able to live this way, it would have happened already." "I'm not good enough. There are fifty people I can think of who are better musicians, or artists, or real estate agents, or underwater basket weavers than I am." "I'm just not meant to live a life like that." "I'm not special."</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Now, readers. Take all of these beliefs that you may have about yourself, and shove them up your asses (respectfully). Those excuses are easy. Those thoughts are comfortable. Because, guess what? Stepping outside of your comfort zone is UNCOMFORTABLE. Just like your teeth coming in as a baby, or your bones growing as an awkward twelve year old, becoming who you are is painful. Like those stretch marks that cover my body, there will always be a reminder of this pain. But, they fade! There will be tears, and maybe even some blood. And you have to be willing to accept that. Living in your old beliefs is lazy. It's like wanting to lose 100 pounds, yet all you do is sit on the couch, eat the same stuff, and complain about not being supermodel thin. How do you expect to change your life drastically in a physical way if you refuse to change your habits? The same approach needs to be how you come at your thoughts. You can't expect change if you refuse to change!</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
You guys, I have had so many people tell me that "Things just happen to you, Payton." And I halfway want to laugh, and halfway want to scream. One person in particular was speaking about my weight, and my career. This person had no idea the trials and tribulations that I had experienced. She wasn't there the nights I laid awake in bed, crying because my bank account was in the negative. She had no idea I spent hours the day before trying on clothes, trying to find one good thing about this new body I inhabited. I am only the person I am today because I have made the decision that most people consider foolish...the decision to wholeheartedly answer the call I was given...at whatever cost. I have gone hungry, I have forced myself to get out of bed when I didn't want to, and I have done jobs that even if they had the slightest thing to do with my industry, I would do them. (I have taped down a lot of boobs, y'all) No one sees the struggle. They just see the end result. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
But, you know what? I answered that call. I didn't know what I was getting myself into. There was a day where I got really quiet, and when I heard the whisper. I have followed the voice whispering with absolute blind faith, stopping to fight off the blues. And it's never an easy task to fight them off. </div>
<div>
You guys, you are here for a reason. You have been given a purpose. It's your job to fill that you sized void while you are here. If you don't try with all of your might to do what you were put here to do, it'll come out in some other icky way--like drinking too much, sleeping with the wrong people, or eating your feelings like I did. But the only way that you are going to be able to step up to the plate to become who you truly are supposed to be is with work, a solid support system, and pure, unabashed faith. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
You are here because the world needs you. It's not always going to be easy. But I promise you, it's better than living a life full of mediocrity and wishing you had done X, Y, and Z. </div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06513292621953483673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-216172288713419470.post-14539739617173224022016-06-07T13:42:00.000-07:002016-06-07T13:42:14.313-07:00Jealous or Crazy? And The Other Woman: Female Stereotypes "<a annotation-fragment="9046157" class="referent referent--yellow" classification="accepted" data-id="9046157" href="http://genius.com/Beyonce-hold-up-lyrics#note-9046157" image="false" ng-class="{'referent--has_teaser': referent == teaser_referent && referent.annotations[0].body.plain}" ng-click="open()" pending-editorial-actions="false" prevent-default-click="" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; background-color: #e9e9e9; border: 0px; box-shadow: rgb(233, 233, 233) 0.1em 0px 0px, rgb(233, 233, 233) -0.1em 0px 0px; box-sizing: border-box; display: inline; font-family: Whitney, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 30.6px; margin: 0px; padding: 0.1em 0px; position: relative; text-decoration: none; transition: background-color 0.1s, box-shadow 0.1s; word-break: break-word;">How did it come down to this?<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />Going through your call list<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />I don't wanna lose my pride, but I'mma fuck me up a bitch<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />Know that I kept it sexy, and know I kept it fun<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />There's something that I'm missing, maybe my head for one</a><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #222222; font-family: Whitney, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 30.6px;" /><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #222222; font-family: Whitney, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 30.6px;" /><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #222222; font-family: Whitney, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 30.6px;" /><a annotation-fragment="9043092" class="referent referent--yellow" classification="accepted" data-id="9043092" href="http://genius.com/Beyonce-hold-up-lyrics#note-9043092" image="false" ng-class="{'referent--has_teaser': referent == teaser_referent && referent.annotations[0].body.plain}" ng-click="open()" pending-editorial-actions="true" prevent-default-click="" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; background-color: #e9e9e9; border: 0px; box-shadow: rgb(233, 233, 233) 0.1em 0px 0px, rgb(233, 233, 233) -0.1em 0px 0px; box-sizing: border-box; display: inline; font-family: Whitney, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 30.6px; margin: 0px; padding: 0.1em 0px; position: relative; text-decoration: none; transition: background-color 0.1s, box-shadow 0.1s; word-break: break-word;">What's worse, lookin' jealous or crazy?<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />Jealous or crazy?<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />Or like being walked all over lately, walked all over lately<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />I'd rather be crazy</a>"<br />
<br />
You guys, I swear, this is the last post in which I mention Lemonade. I promise.<br />
So, as you guys know, I've been really digging this record (along with the new Monkees record--those have pretty much been the only things I've listened to.)<br />
<br />
So, I was rocking out to this song in the car today, and I had an a-ha moment...follow me, here.<br />
<br />
My last relationship ended for quite a few reasons. The number one factor behind ending it was lying. So many things were hidden from me. There was another woman hidden from me. Only, she wasn't that hidden. <br />
<br />
Women's intuition is a beautiful and mystifying thing. It was one night when his phone wasn't glued to his hand. My gut said "Go through it. He's hiding something." I remember being able to feel my heart beat in my ears. As I scrolled through his texts, there she was. Plain as day. Explicit texts back and forth that confirmed exactly what I thought was happening flooded my senses. I immediately threw up and put the phone back. I didn't mention it until five months later.<br />
<br />
I often wondered why women who are cheated on don't say anything. It wasn't until I was one of them that I realized. It is one of the most shameful experiences I have ever gone through in my life. Here I was, head on straight, in the best shape of my life, attempting to build a life with someone, and clearly, I wasn't enough. How could I ever look one of my friends in the eye and admit defeat? <br />
<br />
I became one of those jealous, nosy, clingy girlfriends that everyone complains about. I demanded to know who he was speaking to, where he was going, what he was doing. I can only imagine it was exhausting to be on the receiving end of my demands. Other skeletons came out of the closet. I pushed them back and fought them off with all of the strength I had in me. I became worse. I made myself sick. But, I would rather hide my troubles rather than admit that my partner didn't think I was enough for him.<br />
<br />
Five months later, you guys know how this story ends. But, it wasn't until today that while listening to that song did I realize that women no longer present in a man's life tend to get three roles: Jealous, Crazy, and Home wrecker. <br />
<br />
Here's where I get real with you, readers. I've been the other woman. The two times it happened, it was completely unbeknownst to me at the time the relationships began. One claimed he was divorced (not true, and even though he had a baby with another woman a few years ago, he still reached out to me) and the other never mentioned the fact that he had a girlfriend. It wasn't until she showed up on my doorstep did I realize she existed. I remember both times after realizing what was happening thinking "Why is this bitch taking it out on me? She's crazy. Her husband/boyfriend is the one that she should be pissed off with! Not me!" There's that word. Crazy.<br />
<br />
I've been out with platonic male friends of mine whose significant others were livid that their boyfriends were out with a female. It wasn't until later that I had realized there were major infidelity issues with my male friends. They are no longer friends of mine. But, at the time, I remember thinking...God, jealousy isn't cute, girl! Jealous.<br />
<br />
After I went through my boyfriend at the time's phone, I became that kind of crazy. I stalked, researched, did everything short of getting the FBI involved to track her down. I wrote drafts of emails to she and her husband that I would send, praying that their marriage was destroyed, just like I felt my relationship was. I fantasized about what I would say to her if I ever saw her. All the while, I never once thought to hold my boyfriend accountable for his actions. Now, THAT is crazy, my friends.<br />
<br />
<br />
Of course, that relationship ended after months of me torturing myself, but today is when it hit me. Yeah, as women, if we get cheated on, we should hold the people involved accountable, but maybe we should use more empathy instead of throwing around words like "jealous" and "crazy". Maybe these women have a reason to be. Now, I have never raided another woman's instagram and flooded it with degrading comments, and I never sent her husband an email warning him that his wife is a "home wrecking skank." as much as I thought about it. But, those thoughts did cross my mind.<br />
<br />
I know now that the reasons behind my partner's infidelity had nothing to do with me. I wasn't too thin or too ambitious or too fat or too demanding. It wasn't the relationship I was supposed to end up in, and I am grateful for all of the lessons I learned. I think most of all, though, I am grateful for the insight to the female psyche. And I will be slower to throw around words like "Jealous" and "Crazy" from here on out. I encourage you to do the same.<br />
<br />
And when in doubt, just put on your Cavalli dress and beat some stuff with a baseball bat.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8O69Nrmb8mk/VyKw56HNrKI/AAAAAAAAsqo/CRdbeYwr0HwsLLxjgrtOpHc4gBtgurGZQCKgB/s640/lush-fab-glam.com%2Bbeyonce%2Bwearing%2Broberto%2Bcavalli%2Bmustard%2Bdress%2Bin%2Blemonade%2Bmusic%2Bvideo%2B2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="178" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8O69Nrmb8mk/VyKw56HNrKI/AAAAAAAAsqo/CRdbeYwr0HwsLLxjgrtOpHc4gBtgurGZQCKgB/s320/lush-fab-glam.com%2Bbeyonce%2Bwearing%2Broberto%2Bcavalli%2Bmustard%2Bdress%2Bin%2Blemonade%2Bmusic%2Bvideo%2B2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06513292621953483673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-216172288713419470.post-54044751750057503132016-06-03T10:40:00.000-07:002016-06-03T10:50:51.185-07:00True Life: I'm a Millennial With A Life Coach Hey, readers!<br />
<br />
I hope all of you are well. While I will be reporting on the trends I am seeing on the runways soon (Hello, Gucci cruise!) I thought I would talk to you guys on something that isn't really spoken about.<br />
<br />
Today, I'm going to talk to you about my experience entering into the self help world. After trying to build my own business with little to no luck, a "Lemonade"-esque breakup, a new home, a new relationship, and so much more sending my brain into frazzled mode, my friend Shelby recommended the book "You Are A Badass" by Jen Sincero to me, and it has honestly revolutionized my life. You HAVE to get this book, you guys. It's the best three bucks I ever spent on Amazon. For someone who was a little self help weary, this book was absolutely perfect. Jen was formerly in a punk rock band, and her quirky personality and offbeat sense of humor definitely shines through. She has a quote in the book that stood out to me more than any other:<br />
<br />
"It's not your fault that you're f****d up. It's your fault if you stay f****d up!"<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1TRhRQpla0dPiNx51zvTccLxCBBA2ou7YbY8fczR8PaD2PbOSMwczXxkwGphsVEB5xhq-sNk6wwICpWix8ZZNnJjgFrBFQm9yt-6tHo4XAQgkGXKYS3X56qomRpHbplQtSMYWH4oq7po/s1600/13263863_10153493651890877_6952918467503268959_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1TRhRQpla0dPiNx51zvTccLxCBBA2ou7YbY8fczR8PaD2PbOSMwczXxkwGphsVEB5xhq-sNk6wwICpWix8ZZNnJjgFrBFQm9yt-6tHo4XAQgkGXKYS3X56qomRpHbplQtSMYWH4oq7po/s320/13263863_10153493651890877_6952918467503268959_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
The cutest little reading buddy there ever was. </div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguc2TyDtpaK87JevjqFMBnTxBGEVL8orrpsf6Lr2At53Gwoac4mwYuTeRv-81kJJ8XNdDN-nTAxB6Cu4xS4IyIYCviYC6OxF4PaG2YtzZjwM4YbbmnNJyUnYtOY_Jr8w_NCd6OZm9VDwc/s1600/13343006_10153512583670877_4900668989368547772_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguc2TyDtpaK87JevjqFMBnTxBGEVL8orrpsf6Lr2At53Gwoac4mwYuTeRv-81kJJ8XNdDN-nTAxB6Cu4xS4IyIYCviYC6OxF4PaG2YtzZjwM4YbbmnNJyUnYtOY_Jr8w_NCd6OZm9VDwc/s1600/13343006_10153512583670877_4900668989368547772_n.jpg" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Shelby: Soul sister, fellow badass, and Zombies fan </div>
<br />
<br />
How true was this?! The book gets really uncomfortable for a few chapters when you end up confronting your bull shitake mushrooms. I had to get real with myself about which stories was I continuing to tell myself because they were comfortable. She discusses how people become so wrapped up in their own narratives that doing anything that doesn't play into those will send your brain into shock. For instance: "No one in my family has ever made money." "Rich people are bad people." "I am going to die alone. There are no good men left." "No one makes money as a musician." etc. etc. Here were mine:<br />
<br />
"People don't pay me enough for my services."<br />
"Women aren't supposed to make money. Men are supposed to provide."<br />
"I am an imposter."<br />
"I am not good enough."<br />
"I don't have enough resources to make a difference in the world."<br />
"Men are intimidated by determined, successful women."<br />
<br />
These were all crippling beliefs! In my heart of hearts, I knew I wanted to build a one woman empire based on fashion being a healing avenue. How on earth was I supposed to use my skills to serve the world if I didn't believe I had them? Or that I wasn't good enough? What if The Beatles decided that no one wanted to hear their music because it was unusual? Seriously! They were broke as hell when they started!<br />
<br />
So, once I figured out what my narratives were--the stories that continued to make me feel like crap about myself--I then took the next course of action. Jen says in the book to hire a life coach at any cost. Put it on a credit card, sell all of your possessions, donate your blood, just hire a life coach at any cost. And so I did! <br />
<br />
I had already known of Coach Dar from her work on some people in my family, and her strong online presence. Her Motivational Mondays always really inspired me, so I reached out to her. I mentioned my struggles. When I spoke of my dreams, she didn't laugh, and she certainly didn't scoff at me like the voices in my head were! She said that she would absolutely be able to help me, and sent me her pricing sheet. I bought eight sessions, and it was the biggest check I have ever written in my life. I looked at this as an investment in my life, and tried to not laugh at the irony of hiring a life coach when I was a self employed person with no clients on the books. <br />
<br />
My first session was on the phone. I was honest with Coach Dar about all of my shortcomings, my self doubt, and the direction I wanted to go in with my life. And just like any other coach in sports would, she told me how to keep my head in the game. <br />
<br />
The first thing we tackled was getting me on a meditation routine. She told me about an app called the Insight Timer. I am doing guided meditations at least twice a day. Sometimes it's more if I feel like I need it. I am then doing gratitude journaling in the morning and at night. There's an app that my friend Shelby told me about called the 5 Minute Journal that reminds you do create entries twice a day. That way, there's no excuses! Everyone carries their phones on them at all times anyway! You might as well take a moment to stop and reflect on what you're grateful for! I finally have been able to get into the meditation zone that everyone always talks about. I was given a personal affirmation to repeat to myself all the time. It's written on a notecard that's stuck to my windshield. I was given a meditation exercise to lock away the notion of women not being able to make money in to a drawer, as well as personal affirmations to repeat to myself when I start to feel insecure about my career. I did an exercise in which I had to take every single belief about myself financially. An example:<br />
<br />
<b>BELIEF:</b><br />
<b>"</b>Women don't make money. Men provide it."<br />
<b>IS THAT TRUE?</b><br />
Of course not. Lots of women make tons of money every day. All of the business women I admire are self made women!<br />
<b>TURN IT AROUND</b><br />
I provide an abundant life for myself! Women run successful companies all over the world. And I am one of them! I am able to serve so many people using my gifts.<br />
<b>BELIEF</b><br />
No one wants to pay me what I am worth.<br />
<b>IS THAT TRUE?</b><br />
No! There are stylists out there that I am just as good as making ten times what I do! They are working with exciting clients every single day!<br />
<b>TURN IT AROUND</b><br />
People are paying what I'm worth to have people just like me style them! I am always in the right place at the right time to meet them!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEQIM8pYAN-2b1vXqQwkBieRa5YCsKx630B9JHZXIQl6v0-GPrprOiIuaNYcfkWxbokzX5_hVenn1IlovVMo3P79LVLH5ikmNDNmD-kJO2pWJ-CZyc9uK9jp3yo6QF-kHdxbaggCdtVvk/s1600/13226629_10153500227240877_8683511382941424348_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEQIM8pYAN-2b1vXqQwkBieRa5YCsKx630B9JHZXIQl6v0-GPrprOiIuaNYcfkWxbokzX5_hVenn1IlovVMo3P79LVLH5ikmNDNmD-kJO2pWJ-CZyc9uK9jp3yo6QF-kHdxbaggCdtVvk/s320/13226629_10153500227240877_8683511382941424348_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Truer words have never been spoken. </div>
<br />
<br />
I did the same exercise for my personal beliefs in my self-mind, body, and spirit. I then sat down and got really clear on my financial needs. I wrote down every single thing that I would need to have the greatest life I could imagine. When I sat down and did the math, I realized that this life was easily attainable--if I had been charging what I had originally wanted to charge people for my services! All I would need to do is to charge what I am worth, I could thrive with four clients a month! Instead, I was floundering with eight or more jobs a month, and barely scraping by! What a freeing revelation this was! I wasn't a failure, or lacking! I just was selling myself short!<br />
<br />
At the end of the day, the biggest thing that Coach Dar has helped me with is my attitude! I had such a poverty mindset--"Things never happen to me." "I'm not successful enough." "I should have been further along." And just as easily as those thoughts flew through my brain, now "I am already abundant." "I am always in the right place at the right time." "I am exactly in the right place to serve." are on repeat. You can't control all of the situations you will be handed, readers. You can, however, handle how you choose to react to them. There were days recently that I would have loved to have stayed in bed all day and wallowed. But, I chose to wake up, dress up, make up, and show up. And those days have been the most rewarding! I have ended up in some beautifully rewarding situations that would not have happened had I done things my old ways.<br />
<br />
If your old ways aren't working--if you're broke, and feel like you always will be, or if you feel like you're just existing and not living, or whatever it is, get your hands on that book. Hire a coach. Sell everything you have to make it happen. Do whatever it takes. Because being able to get out of bed in the morning, being able to look myself square in the eye and be prepared to take over the world is priceless.<br />
<br />
You may think I am nuts for being a 24 year old with a life coach, but I will be over here making vision boards, meditating, and repeating my affirmations in the mean time. You only have one life to live. I have spent far too much time at the bedsides of people I love towards the end of their life. When I asked them what they all wished? "That I hadn't worried as much and just lived." And it's my every intention to live in such a way that when my loved ones gather around me and ask me what I would have changed, I will be able to smile, and say "Nothing. It was the best ride ever."<br />
<br />
<br />
Would you ever consider getting a life coach, readers? Why or why not?<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1HGWaq3xykfrzHguaQGzvwtoK3wSsGTx_iYPRzVaD7aHpxytyIhnSwboowYC6z83Q_3Pj6grAOXW2wgBeSmHJ697gbf71AU73egTG25kVRvHqwn9qHLGfIcJ15v_rb0oWBsMXTNkXyZ0/s1600/13321953_10153516053925877_5634938719043523774_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1HGWaq3xykfrzHguaQGzvwtoK3wSsGTx_iYPRzVaD7aHpxytyIhnSwboowYC6z83Q_3Pj6grAOXW2wgBeSmHJ697gbf71AU73egTG25kVRvHqwn9qHLGfIcJ15v_rb0oWBsMXTNkXyZ0/s1600/13321953_10153516053925877_5634938719043523774_n.jpg" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
A little reminder from my five minute journal app. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06513292621953483673noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-216172288713419470.post-69709016789629548012016-05-01T11:17:00.002-07:002016-05-01T11:23:28.353-07:00Closet Case: Why You Shouldn't Settle For Bad Clothes Or Relationships Hey, readers!<br />
<br />
I told you that I would be blogging more! I have been debating whether or not to write this particular blog. But, I recently had a discussion with a client of mine that made me rethink that decision.<br />
<br />
A few days ago, I was cleaning out a client's closet and preparing her wardrobe for the upcoming seasonal change. My process usually involves me pulling every single item out of my client's closet, throwing it on their beds, and then having them separate everything into piles: Keep, Donate, Sell. I have them try on every single article of clothing, and talk them through why I think they should or should not keep a piece. After helping walk a few people through this process, I realized that not only do we as humans tend to hoard things that no longer serve us in our wardrobes, but we do it in our lives as well. <br />
<br />
My last client has a shopping problem. I have attempted numerous times to educate her on when something is a good investment or not (Quality, Taste, Style, Versatility...) and it just doesn't seem to effect her. Like many women, she fluctuates in her weight, and the clothes she held on to from when she was her smallest (and starving herself) bring up painful memories and make her feel inadequate. As she clung on to a cheap, ill fitting, polyester sundress from a box store, tearfully trying to make it fit, I had a realization...She was doing to her closet what I had been doing in my life.<br />
<br />
How many times have I sat across from another person, be it friend, or romantic interest, trying so hard to squeeze, wiggle, and force a perfect match? Almost always. <br />
<br />
Maybe it's with the latest release of Beyonce's "Lemonade" that has me inspired to talk about what happened to me. Maybe it's because I am simply too tired to answer any more questions about it. Maybe it's because it's time to clean the skeletons out of my closet...<br />
<br />
My last relationship was the equivalent of the stained sweatpants you can't get rid of from high school. It was sort of comfortable, it was definitely stained, stretched, and wasn't doing much of anything for anyone. About a year into the relationship, I learned that there was some serious infidelity issues going on. I waited until ten months to bring it up. I essentially sat in an oversized hoodie of a relationship because it was comfortable. It definitely wasn't working for me. I might as well have been in an open relationship with his phone (the device he used to be unfaithful with.)<br />
<br />
Being in a relationship with a man who refuses to show you his phone is the equivalent of wearing leggings as pants. It's awkward for all parties involved. It's enough effort to get by. You deserve an open and honest relationship. Just like you deserve real pants. <br />
<br />
So, I let the infidelity slide. Maybe it'll get better! Just like I may manage to make this stretched and faded t-shirt work if I accessorize it a bit. I'm not crazy! You are! This is totally working. I may look like I'm from People Of Wal-Mart. But that's a look! I stayed for almost an entire year after finding this out, guys. This was just the tip of the iceberg. There are a million other reasons why it didn't work out in the long run. There was the hustling for two, the mind numbing day in and day out of being the only one doing chores, and being constantly reminded every single day that I wasn't enough. The snide comments, the inability to show me that he was proud to be with me...it was maddening. But, it was comfortable.<br />
<br />
And then, one of my best friends moved in town from LA. We had gone out previously, and kissed once (or fifty times) there was an undeniable spark between the two of us. However, with us living across the country, we agreed to remain friends, and our relationship was kept on the phone. You know that expression "Nothing haunts us like the things we didn't buy?" He was the equivalent of this vintage Louis Vuitton bag I should have bought two years prior...Couldn't shake him. And so, once he moved to Nashville, and saw the state my life was in, he showed me that I deserved real pants...and someone who was proud to be with me.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG7cimRs1KglrY_NGtLg_hRWXZnU1FCtbdsr7BpvM1tCGu94-wr8aaiUjE2Okbihf9ENQjUGPUS6jnS-o6fmprWddkPavPcAk2aXrxK0onvH4ZUgCgYW9uZQ0zfT11Y49YNlnJedVIS8E/s1600/13062416_10153510703563093_6960269894061420596_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG7cimRs1KglrY_NGtLg_hRWXZnU1FCtbdsr7BpvM1tCGu94-wr8aaiUjE2Okbihf9ENQjUGPUS6jnS-o6fmprWddkPavPcAk2aXrxK0onvH4ZUgCgYW9uZQ0zfT11Y49YNlnJedVIS8E/s320/13062416_10153510703563093_6960269894061420596_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5okTfvyJ1RpiMC_ymvu0j4tSBsfQcXZCD99jBc0qTnIZ7CJBfkhHgU7r4ClkR8xDRchnFqhwSb_gPo3tQQgsQVPVJvyDpVGY8sJSOhJg5unm7zEGZivXaO6x9o28oSSy2SgkIewuIqug/s1600/13103441_10153454817970877_5662677126377115274_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5okTfvyJ1RpiMC_ymvu0j4tSBsfQcXZCD99jBc0qTnIZ7CJBfkhHgU7r4ClkR8xDRchnFqhwSb_gPo3tQQgsQVPVJvyDpVGY8sJSOhJg5unm7zEGZivXaO6x9o28oSSy2SgkIewuIqug/s320/13103441_10153454817970877_5662677126377115274_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
When he moved back to town, I was reminded of purchasing my first designer item of clothing. As a teenager, I worked a few jobs to help pay for gas, and bought the usual Forever 21 bologna. And then, one day, I decided I wanted a pair of really nice jeans. I saved and saved, and finally walked into the store to purchase them. I had never felt as beautiful as I did in those jeans. I went home, neatly hung them up in my closet, and never went back. As an adult, I have cultivated a wardrobe full of beautiful pieces that are high quality. They are pieces that I am proud to be seen in. It's organized in a way to make my life easier. And everything fits! If I wouldn't settle for mediocrity in my closet, I definitely wasn't about to settle into it in my personal life! Your relationship should fit like the perfect jeans. They should be comfortable, but support you in all the right places. My old friend became my new boyfriend, and I don't plan on going back to the faded, ill-fitting leggings any time soon.<br />
<br />
Guys, you deserve someone who will hand over their phones because they have nothing to hide. You deserve beautiful fabrics hanging in your closet that make you feel like a million dollars. And you sure as hell deserve to have someone who doesn't shove skeletons in the back of their closets next to their Crocs.<br />
<br />
Keep your closets dusted, and keep your minds clear. <br />
<br />
-Your sister in denim<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06513292621953483673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-216172288713419470.post-25914541627861128492016-04-23T13:51:00.002-07:002016-04-23T13:52:08.835-07:00Bravery and Square Pegs.Hey, readers!<br>
<br>
I am so sorry that my blogs have been so few and far between lately. Remember when I used to update this thing regularly? I've also been skimping on my Fashion Friday videos the past two weeks.<br>
<br>
This should have been the first sign that something was sort of off with me I suppose. I stopped beating my drum sticks on every surface I could find. I didn't pick up a pen. I hadn't read any books that weren't self help related. I stopped dreaming of traveling to far away places. This is where I was at with my life two weeks ago. I walked around like a zombie, living on under eye concealer and large coffees. If I could plaster a smile on my face to go out into the real world, then no one would know...I was slowly killing myself. And no one noticed.<br>
<br>
Now, this is nobody's fault, really. I had done what I have always done. My entire life has been spent moving from place to place, grasping for some sense of stability and normalcy. I don't recall a time where I wasn't trying to force something to be what I needed it to be. The title to my autobiography might as well have been called "Close, But No Cigar." and my catchphrase of "It's ALMOST there." which I usually reserve for describing articles of clothing for clients was beginning to feel like my mantra.<br>
<br>
I was spinning my wheels trying to figure out a way to drum up business for myself to keep going. I was constantly reminded of the limiting beliefs that I had grown up with surrounding money. Every day I woke up with a sense of dread, and a constant reminder that my dreams were not going to come true. My backyard felt like a trap instead of an oasis. My relationships felt like nooses around my neck. I thought about giving up styling about fifty times in a matter of a week. And then, one morning I woke up and prayed for a sign. "Creator, give me a sign that I'm on the right or the wrong path." I begged. I woke up and went to a business meeting, and it was there that I got that sign.<br>
<br>
It was supposed to be a normal business meeting with a woman I met at a networking event. She had a new skin care line that she wanted me to review. She then said "I notice your energy seems off. I'm a reader and healer. May I help you?" Now, I'm not one to shy away from the crunchy hippie way of life, so I said "Of course!" She took me upstairs and shuffled a deck of cards. She closed her eyes and said "OK, so this card will represent what will happen if you stay on your current path." and then I saw the two words CERTAIN DEATH under a photo of the Grim Reaper. A lump formed in my throat, and I started to tear up. She then closed her eyes again, and said "This card will represent your life if you choose to take a different path." A man illuminated by the rays of the sun and a trail leading to this beautiful paradise was revealed to me. THE SUNSHINE MAN was in big, bold letters underneath the illustration.<br>
<br>
The woman then said to me "I feel like your entire life, you've been settling. You're a workaholic, and you try to see the best in every one else at your own expense. You have dreams of a life full of passion, adventure, excitement, and service to other people. But, if you continue on this path you're on, it will never happen. Life will be difficult if you do not choose to allow yourself to see the sunshine."<br>
<br>
Insert me having a crying fit here. She hit the nail on every head, dug the nails back out, and hammered them back in again. I had been overworking myself to distract from my unhappiness. I had been trying to convince myself that I was incredibly happy and fulfilled, when in reality, I was empty and had never been lonelier in my life. And so, I started over. <br>
<br>
I walked away from what was my home for nearly the past two years. I left behind plans, and a business I shared with someone, and all of the furniture that had been "ours". I spent far too much money on a tiny little space, and moved Me and My Arrow in. We don't have furniture yet, but there is a lot of love in our crackerjack box of an apartment. And I'll tell you something, readers. The moment I decided to leave and start fresh is the moment I felt like I could breathe again. I talked to my grandmother the other day on the phone in the midst of the moving chaos, and she told me that I was one of the bravest people she knew. "Most people would just have stayed in a life that was just okay. You're brave for knowing who you are, and knowing you deserve better than just okay."<br>
<br>
I guess I've never thought of myself as brave, readers. It wasn't until I sat and really thought about the choices I have made in my short lifetime that I realized I was. I've lived more in my nearly 25 years than most twice my age. I've already decided that booze and I don't get along...even though it's ingrained in us as a society that twenty somethings should. I decided when I was quite young to live a life without eating animals even though I live in the BBQ capital of the world. I've chosen a career path that is neither steady, nor promised when I could have easily taken a different job to help me pay the bills until I die. For the first time in my life, I gave myself the credit for being brave. And this time, I was going to be brave enough to decide to live the life I want. <br>
<br>
If there's anything I would love for you to take away from these ramblings, readers, it is this:<br>
You don't have to sit at a table where love is no longer being served. You deserve a life of passion, adventure, and excitement. You should have and can have a life where you wake up and drink coffee with your soulmate, where your job makes you ridiculously happy to be alive, and where you feel like you can truly, fully be who you were put on this earth to be. You just have to be brave enough to choose it.<br>
<br>
And tomorrow? Arrow and I are packing up to go on an adventure. Because we choose to!<br>
<br>
<br>
<br><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieIz3tYKajjQ-wOmsfT-_OAty4NEljkCfKF2H4_nGkHa18xv08MjX3hHYeu15zQwpTxbAeo7zVdls1AaMCWhQE-jvkb40Uo_sTVEX3bY9rol7aYVIUwMsvdLb0gSCjkoJMZmdHydkplrk/s640/blogger-image-1855605257.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieIz3tYKajjQ-wOmsfT-_OAty4NEljkCfKF2H4_nGkHa18xv08MjX3hHYeu15zQwpTxbAeo7zVdls1AaMCWhQE-jvkb40Uo_sTVEX3bY9rol7aYVIUwMsvdLb0gSCjkoJMZmdHydkplrk/s640/blogger-image-1855605257.jpg"></a></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06513292621953483673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-216172288713419470.post-33802224928816514912016-03-02T14:36:00.000-08:002016-03-04T12:48:09.555-08:00Imposter SyndromeHello, readers!<br>
<br>
I do apologize for the gaps in between my blogs lately. If you follow me on my social media platforms, you know that it's been a productive few months. I have recently signed on as the Creative Director of Nashville Fashion TV, and that along with the work I am doing on my own has kept me terribly tied up. I barely have time to write an Instagram caption, let alone an entire blog!<br>
<br>
<br>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKjwnypRtLAKhyJ4Mn5AyYMmqaCEWwil2rSHsorrHbF0wZGRlwwE1ILhxcmKWnEXgp3rhwwaFuVYkEojBJMVp3xNKGgzDHL54WKohocfaMVyFNKVOADV0fIeij8vX2mHCNdg-f3Cb9x3A/s1600/12806230_10153316268740877_1772198477656137587_n.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKjwnypRtLAKhyJ4Mn5AyYMmqaCEWwil2rSHsorrHbF0wZGRlwwE1ILhxcmKWnEXgp3rhwwaFuVYkEojBJMVp3xNKGgzDHL54WKohocfaMVyFNKVOADV0fIeij8vX2mHCNdg-f3Cb9x3A/s320/12806230_10153316268740877_1772198477656137587_n.jpg" width="320"></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Interviewing Amanda Valentine for Nashville TV</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><br></b></div>
I've had this subject on my mind a lot lately. As someone who considers herself a creative, as well as being born from a creative, and currently living with one too, I see this as an epidemic. I'm taking about "Imposter Syndrome" <br>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Imposter Sundrome: a term coined in 1978 by clinical psychologists Dr. Pauline R. Clance and Suzanne A. Imes referring to high-achieving individuals marked by an inability to internalize their accomplishments and a persistent fear of being exposed as a "fraud"</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><br></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi55h9WvRY1wVVSConNJAiddMTSZO98AIR6dwkd5YhHF6xsF_CTpTW6XOlYIU8IuqReeemWxFNKneq5d9ztPIVz4mv9NzERnsadrhUYjDXPz964r9QrLaXHa4rYNPsg3fqt0n9FgfnydYE/s1600/12801516_10153308620515877_6606304985881805283_n.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi55h9WvRY1wVVSConNJAiddMTSZO98AIR6dwkd5YhHF6xsF_CTpTW6XOlYIU8IuqReeemWxFNKneq5d9ztPIVz4mv9NzERnsadrhUYjDXPz964r9QrLaXHa4rYNPsg3fqt0n9FgfnydYE/s320/12801516_10153308620515877_6606304985881805283_n.jpg" width="320"></a></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Behind the scenes of a product shot and commercial. </b></div>
<b><br></b>
I know that I've shared a lot of things with you on this blog that most people wouldn't dream of mentioning to their closest friends, let alone expose their vulnerabilities to the entire internet. However, when I started blogging, I told you all that I would be honest with all of you. And, the way I look at it, if I have difficulties with this, then others will too.<br>
<br>
This past year has been the most rewarding career wise for me. I have dressed famous people, rebranded musicians entirely, been published in print, been in music videos, had countless photo shoots, relaunched my website, and will be giving a speech at a Fashion Week kickoff party about my career as a celebrity stylist. I was on my way to interview Amanda Valentine, the fashion designer for Nashville Fashion TV when I was tagged in the poster on Facebook:<br>
<br>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0_sncVnLHN3JmOYbLU9nt2sOUYx5hyphenhyphen-DuHoL1aVRJbfPrO5XrmLZcF8XO-dpbcQGyjnZm2ttNsfA5-8xI9vUshuZLKZOTRQonf2coWn5LP-vTJwJb8a4kstIG_jqkrrhSoDFNe_aUF5Y/s1600/12814077_10153316013810877_9152785759591177636_n.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0_sncVnLHN3JmOYbLU9nt2sOUYx5hyphenhyphen-DuHoL1aVRJbfPrO5XrmLZcF8XO-dpbcQGyjnZm2ttNsfA5-8xI9vUshuZLKZOTRQonf2coWn5LP-vTJwJb8a4kstIG_jqkrrhSoDFNe_aUF5Y/s320/12814077_10153316013810877_9152785759591177636_n.jpg" width="320"></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
It was then that it hit me. I am going to be giving a speech in front of other people on how to become a celebrity stylist. I was going to tell people how they could become like me. Who on earth would want to listen to that? No one wants to listen to me go on and on about how I have essentially spent seven years taping people's boobs down, and steaming out disgruntled rockstar's wrinkles! What if they realize that I'm not really all that great? What if they find out that I'm not glamorous, and I'm no one to aspire to be like? I'm not a stylist! I'm a fake! Now, keep in mind, I said this as I had a trunk full of clothes I needed to return from a photo shoot I just styled, a text conversation going on with a client of mine, and I was about to walk in to interview a very well known fashion designer for a program...about fashion. I had managed to go into that deep dark hole and take away my own accomplishments from myself. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Logically speaking, I know that my hard work is finally beginning to pay off. I know that there is a long road ahead of me that will involve burns from steamers, and people who used to be famous being mad at me over pleating in their pants. But my subconscious likes to go into this deep dark pit that is filled with everyone who's ever told me that I wasn't enough. It's my natural instinct to fall down that hole. Oh,you've just booked an incredibly high profile job that will look insanely great on your resume? What if they figure out that you're not as great as everyone says you are? What if they find out that you have no idea what you're doing? This is where my brain goes.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
It's then that I have to sit down, breathe, and usually write down everything that I am feeling in the moment. I'll make it out in list form, and reply to my own concerns.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Things that I am worried about:</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><br></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>They won't be happy with my work.</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>You'll never know until you actually do the work! Besides, every other client has always been happy!</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>I'm not accomplished enough. I should be further ahead by now.</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>You're nearly 25, and have already done more than people in your industry who are decades older than you. Shut up. </i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>What if they don't take me seriously?</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Do you take yourself seriously? OK, then. Now, go in there and show them how serious to take you.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br></i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
It may sound a bit strange, readers, but this is the only thing that has really helped me get over this "Imposter Syndrome" circle of frustration. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Because, the truth of the matter is, I am quite successful for someone my age. I have worked at the same career goal for nearly seven years. I have been published several times, worked for mostly celebrities, and have started building the foundation on which my professional life will more than likely lie on for the rest of my life. Somedays, I just need my conscious and my subconscious to be on the same page!</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
What do you think, readers? Do you ever have self-doubt that turns into Imposter Syndrome? Comment below how you fight it off! </div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06513292621953483673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-216172288713419470.post-62745597285431240262015-11-11T10:02:00.002-08:002015-11-11T10:08:03.694-08:00I Have Body Dysmorphia And Work In The Fashion Industry <span style="font-family: inherit;">Hey, readers.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Before we go any further, you may be a little confused with my title. So, let's make sure we are all on the same page. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
</span><br />
<div class="vk_ans" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif-light, sans-serif; font-size: xx-large !important; font-weight: lighter !important; margin-bottom: 0px;">
<span data-dobid="hdw" style="font-family: inherit;">bod·y dys·mor·phic dis·or·der</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: small;">
<div class="lr_dct_sf_h" style="padding-top: 10px;">
<i><span style="font-family: inherit;">noun</span></i></div>
<div class="xpdxpnd vk_gy" data-mh="15" data-mhc="1" style="color: rgb(135, 135, 135) !important; max-height: 15px; overflow: hidden; transition: max-height 0.3s;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">noun: <b>body dysmorphic disorder</b>; noun: <b>BDD</b>; plural noun: <b>BDDs</b></span></div>
<ol class="lr_dct_sf_sens" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 20px;">
<li style="border: 0px; line-height: 1.2; list-style: none; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><div class="lr_dct_sf_sen vk_txt" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif-light, sans-serif; font-weight: lighter !important; padding-top: 10px;">
<div style="margin-left: 20px;">
<div class="_Jig" style="margin-left: -20px;">
<div data-dobid="dfn" style="display: inline;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">a psychological disorder in which a person becomes obsessed with imaginary defects in their appearance.Sometimes believing they are mutated, much heavier or smaller than appear in real life. </span></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</li>
</ol>
<div style="color: #222222;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="color: #222222;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: arial, sans-serif;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 15.6px;">So, now that we all know what I'm talking about, let's move on. </span></div>
<div style="font-family: arial, sans-serif;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 15.6px;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: arial, sans-serif;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 15.6px;">I wasn't originally going to write this blog. A series of events happened to me about a month ago that really disturbed me. I thought that it was the right thing to do. I was talked out of it. But, I can't be quiet about it any longer.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 15.6px;"><br /></span>
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 15.6px;">So, backstory. As some of you know, I am a stylist for a living. My career has been spent dressing people to look their best...usually very beautiful and famous people at that. One of my other jobs is as a model on runways and in photos. So, all of my income comes from either being paid to be photographed, or making sure others look good in their photos and performances. So, if I'm essentially paid for my looks, why do I feel this way? </span><br /><span style="line-height: 15.6px;">I was heavy most of my childhood and early adulthood. I wasn't born big, but due to lack of appropriate nutrition and depression, I got that bloated belly pretty early in life. I remember not wanting any photos taken of me when I was nine on the family trip to Disney World...because my pants were too tight and I had a muffin top. I couldn't enjoy my trip because of it. I didn't want to go on rides that would jiggle me around, because someone would notice my jiggly gut, and make fun of me. This is what BDD sounds like...I can't experience joy because (insert body part here)</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 15.6px;"><br /></span><span style="line-height: 15.6px;">This thinking and behavior followed me into middle and high school. I was too fat to be pretty, and pretty girls are the only ones worth being. I hyper focused on several points. I hated my uneven skin, my nose was too big, and my lack of torso made weight gain in my mid section the most uncomfortable burden I carried physically and mentally. Around this time, MySpace was all the rage. If you wanted to speak to your friends from school, you had to have one. And if you had one, you had to have photos of yourself. I remember the very first time I ever had my photo taken not against my will. I was fourteen. I did my hair and makeup to the best of my ability. I put on my favorite t-shirt. I set the camera's self timer to ten seconds, and walked back across the room. I winced when it went off, as if in pain, and went to see the mutant that would most certainly be staring back at me in the view finder. Imagine my shock when the girl I saw in the photo wasn't a mutant at all. Sure, she was a bit chubby, but the lighting had evened out my skin, and my nose didn't look so big after all! Seeing myself in a view finder was the first time that I could actually accept who I was and what I looked like. After that, I began to stage elaborate (for a fourteen year old) photo shoots with outfits I made and had put together. I learned how to hide the things I didn't want to show, and accentuate what photographed well. I figured out what fabrics were best for on and off camera, and how to copy the poses I saw in magazines. At school, I was the chubby, pimply girl with big hair who liked old music. At home, I had a world that I created in which I was glam squad, stylist, model, and photographer all in one. When I was in my zone, I could accept. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 15.6px;"><br /></span><span style="line-height: 15.6px;">When out in the "real world", my BDD could get the most of me. If someone didn't like me, it was because I wasn't pretty enough. If I was teased, it was because I wasn't good enough. If I wasn't accepted, it was my fault. It fed my social anxiety. Don't go out into the world. There are people out there who are waiting to tell you that you're not good enough. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 15.6px;"><br /></span><span style="line-height: 15.6px;">Fast forward to a few years later. I was a size 14-16, but still practicing my styling skills, makeup artistry, and posing. I could create the girl in the photos. I liked her. Other people liked her too. And one day, I was asked to model...for money. Imagine my shock. I leaped at the opportunity. My first experience on set was me feeling like an inconvenience because I was the biggest girl on set. I powered through and did my job...and they kept calling me. To this day, the best way to explain to people how I feel is "I feel like the less attractive twin of the girl in the photos." </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 15.6px;"><br /></span><span style="line-height: 15.6px;">I kept on modeling as a plus size model for a few years. I never felt truly confident in myself during this time period. The other photographers didn't capture me in a way that I thought was flattering, and one even made me do a pin up photo shoot in which I'm eating a piece of pizza over and over again...as to point out something I didn't already know. I was a fat model. I was depressed, and terribly unhealthy. I was carrying around an extra 50 pounds that was weighing me down in more ways than one. Anything wrong with me, I would always blame on my size. If I didn't get a job, it was because I was fat. If I got rejected, it's because I wasn't good enough. It was really easy to blanket all of my problems with the simple excuse "It's just because I'm fat."</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 15.6px;"><br /></span><span style="line-height: 15.6px;">And then, one day, something clicked. I ended up watching hours upon hours of documentaries about diet and nutrition. I decided to make the change to a vegan lifestyle. The weight began to fall off of me. Other people started to notice. My skin cleared up, my hair and nails grew like crazy. My waist shrank to half its former size. Imagine my shock when I realized that it didn't solve all of my problems! It made them worse! I thought being thin meant I would book more work. It didn't. I thought skinny meant that I would be handed everything on a silver platter like my straight sized colleagues. Nothing happened. I thought that a skinny body would make the voices in my head stop telling me that I was disgusting. It didn't. They wouldn't stop unless I made them stop.</span><br /><span style="line-height: 15.6px;"><br /></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 15.6px;">Over time, with counseling, healers, holistic doctors, and supportive friends, those voices have softened to a whisper when at one period of time, they were screams so loud, I could hear nothing else. But, as mentioned before, the BDD fuels social anxiety. My weight loss in turn made my clothes that used to make me feel safe fall off of me. For most, this is a great problem. And it is. But it also makes getting dressed nearly impossible. I have tried to remedy this situation by stocking a fairly well rounded wardrobe for myself, but at one point, getting dressed to go out at any given point could result in me, crying on the floor, surrounded by jeans that fell off of me. "I just want clothes that fit!" I used to yell. My poor boyfriend has picked me up off the floor, grabbed me by the shoulders, and given me his now infamous pep talk of "You are always the best dressed person in the room. Don't sweat this" too many times to count. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 15.6px;"><br /></span><span style="line-height: 15.6px;">I've learned to mostly manage my end of things. As mentioned before, I tried to stock a wardrobe full of things that are easy to throw it together to dial in. I try to plan these things out in advance if I am walking into a situation that I feel "unsafe" in...but there were several events that happened in the span of a week that really made me angry...that made me want to write this long winded blog in the first place.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 15.6px;"><br /></span><span style="line-height: 15.6px;">The first was running into an acquaintance in a public place. She commented on how thin I was. (If only she had known I was in the process of having a meltdown before I left the house.) And the truth of the matter is? I am thin. I have worked very hard to become healthy, and to maintain. I also know that logically, this person has put on a significant amount of weight since I had met her, and is feeling insecure and jealous. All logic goes out the window when this person starts poking me in the ribs over and over again, and tells me to eat a cheeseburger. This is when I mentally shift into fat kid mode, and shut down. If you wouldn't poke a fat person and comment on their size, why is it okay to do it to me?</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 15.6px;"><br /></span><span style="line-height: 15.6px;">Later that night, I ran into another person my partner and I are friendly with. She too poked me in the ribs (ouch!) and called me a "skinny bitch" over and over again. Also, my brain understands why this is happening. Insecurity does strange things to people. But once my boundaries are violated, and any comment is made on my physical appearance in a negative way? I revert. "There must be something wrong with me if my body makes her uncomfortable."</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 15.6px;"><br /></span><span style="line-height: 15.6px;">And last, but certainly not least. Later that week, I tackled a lot of my social anxiety and not only went out with my partner and his best friend to a bar (one of my biggest triggers is being around people who are obnoxiously drunk) but to meet friends of his who I've never met. I feel like me being socially awkward at first meeting already is a strike against me...but then the strangest thing happened. My boyfriend and his friend introduced me to a female friend of theirs. She was standoffish and cold to everyone in the group, refusing to look me in the eye. When I was finally introduced, she refused to shake my hand and just said "Uh, huh. Of course you look perfect. You look like a freaking Barbie. I hate you." If only she had known how hard it was just to get me out of the house. I was already feeling like I wasn't up to par as far as my appearance was, and I shed a few tears over it in the bathroom. Why was this stranger spewing such hatred out at me? I thought perhaps she was joking, but she kept harping on it. That familiar sinking feeling in my gut started to happen, and the elephant that I carry with me on my chest in such situations made himself so comfortable sitting on my heart. I choked back tears. What could I have possibly done to make this woman lash out at me? And how would she feel if I had said "Well, you're fat and your shoes make me feel sad. I hate you?" Why is it okay to talk to people this way based on their appearance alone? </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 15.6px;"><br /></span><span style="line-height: 15.6px;">I wish that I could go back in time and give my old self a heads up. Hey, keep up the hard work. People pay you to do all of those things now. But, being thin won't solve your problems. It's going to pile on a whole new load of them! Am I glad I am healthy? Certainly. I'm healthier than ever, and I have noticed great progress in how I think about myself, and how I feel about myself. I'm not to a point where I can necessarily control how I feel when other people behave in such a way yet. That, I am working on. But, maybe we should all keep in mind before we lash out at someone over insecurity, or jealousy, that you don't know what the person you're attacking is dealing with. </span><br /><span style="line-height: 15.6px;">She probably spent twenty minutes crying over jeans that didn't fit, or something much worse.</span><span style="line-height: 15.6px;"><br /></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 15.6px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 15.6px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 15.6px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 15.6px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 15.6px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 15.6px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 15.6px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 15.6px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 15.6px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 15.6px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 15.6px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 15.6px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 15.6px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 15.6px;"><br /></span>
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk0PP8VpgZV91I4NH3Dwfp_FOVeKTn8qDWCVI7AntcIPtjZqB8u5GeZvzZ8wa0MYJpdizdSia2Begdtf5C0G_SBsk_qzPPyyNsJXoAYuemHO_rgbqlmDaht6ig7fo2NZq4mDnrmzHuqP0/s1600/11988430_10153127532160877_6284696843536208332_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk0PP8VpgZV91I4NH3Dwfp_FOVeKTn8qDWCVI7AntcIPtjZqB8u5GeZvzZ8wa0MYJpdizdSia2Begdtf5C0G_SBsk_qzPPyyNsJXoAYuemHO_rgbqlmDaht6ig7fo2NZq4mDnrmzHuqP0/s320/11988430_10153127532160877_6284696843536208332_n.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Being shot by Jerry Gaza. A truly unique moment in time. Not only was this a full circle moment for Jerry and I, but this was the first photo shoot I've done without a meltdown. At all. Shot by my patient partner in crime, Nathan. </span></div>
<span style="line-height: 15.6px;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="font-family: arial, sans-serif;">
<span style="line-height: 15.6px;"><br /></span>
<span style="line-height: 15.6px;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06513292621953483673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-216172288713419470.post-72323940849714835902015-10-11T17:27:00.000-07:002015-12-04T12:35:03.017-08:00These Boots Are Made For Walking (And Running, and Jumping, and
Standing Still)--Llynda Moore BootsHi, readers!<br>
<br>
A while ago, I was introduced to a new designer, Llynda Moore. (For those of my underground music fan readers, you may have heard of her brother, R. Stevie Moore.) Llynda is a former Miss Tennessee, and has gone on to Las Vegas to work as a singer. Realizing that she needed a boot that was comfortable, as well as versatile, and fit properly, she invented her patented design. <br>
<br>
Llynda reached out to me to ask if I would model her boots, and give her an honest opinion about them. As someone who wears a good four-six inch heel nearly every day of my life, I have grown accustomed to the standard heel problems that most women face. If your platform isn't built solidly enough, you'll wobble. If your stiletto is poorly crafted, it will almost "grip" the concrete, every time you go to take a step. And with boots, the number one complaint from most women is that it is practically impossible to find a boot that not only fits their calves, but their foot as well. As a stylist, I am always trying to talk my clients into wearing even just a slight heel for photo shoots and performances. The right shoe can take up to ten pounds off your figure if styled correctly. And as for live photos, heels make you appear to be slinky and larger than life as opposed to duck footed, and a bit frumpy. But, my girls always complain, and even in the most comfortable of all heels, they will kick them off towards the end of their shows. So, I knew if Llynda were telling me the truth, then I would have a product in my back pocket that would revolutionize my clients' lives forever.<br>
<br>
Llynda Moore boots come in two parts: the ankle boot, and the boot top. The ankle boot is your standard shoe size, and the boot top comes in many different sizes to fit your calf circumference. This not only guarantees a perfect fit every single time, but gives you the options of 30 different looks in one pair of boots. Too good to be true, right? And what about my stance on cruelty free fashion choices? They're vegan. Every single boot top is reversible, so your options automatically double. The heels come in three sizes: a low heel, a tapered heel, and a stiletto. I asked for the stiletto, and as for the boot tops, I asked for the black sequin, which reverses into a classic black "leather" and the leopard ones (because leopard is my favorite neutral) that does as well. <br>
<br>
Skeptical doesn't even begin to describe my feelings prior to receiving my boots. I did my research like a good fashion nerd, and was a bit thrown off by the advertising. As someone used to either glossy magazine ads, or the wonderful talent that Nashville designers have in their Instagram and fantastic social media campaigns, the website definitely made me question the legitimacy of the boots I was to be receiving. Upon further digging, I found out that the majority of her boots were sold through Independent Representatives. Thoughts of bad Tupperware parties, and invites to join whatever the latest miracle weight loss drug groups were creeped up. Independent Representatives screamed of old ladies hawking Mary Kay out of their homes, not a young and hip audience that wear cool boots on stage! I'll admit, I was already sort of ready to write them off as yet another item of clothing that a designer had given me that would live in the bottom of my closet, collecting dust...until I opened them. <div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqL7OjKOP-Tzx1hVBlQlD_0DLZRedL5Ld3Odef4GD42CSNnbj3rrtP9WGJ6yJZ-VwykpJqMFnaxwQDkV-6832LsrWFAWO3CeHWgLK3a_QqgZnlPpSoTuhzBiwBRra1gevoFSJBuEOHc2c/s640/blogger-image--494705554.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqL7OjKOP-Tzx1hVBlQlD_0DLZRedL5Ld3Odef4GD42CSNnbj3rrtP9WGJ6yJZ-VwykpJqMFnaxwQDkV-6832LsrWFAWO3CeHWgLK3a_QqgZnlPpSoTuhzBiwBRra1gevoFSJBuEOHc2c/s640/blogger-image--494705554.jpg"></a></div><br>
<br>
As I pulled the ankle boot out of the box, I was flabbergasted at how much these shoes felt like real leather. The term "vegan leather" is usually reserved for fabrics made of cheap plastic and lost dreams. They even smelled like real leather! As I stuck my hand into the ankle boot part to remove the packing materials, I was met with a foam insole at least an inch thick. I later learned that it was removable and washable...I suddenly thought back to all the nights I had spent dousing performance shoes with vodka to remove the odors caused by sweaty feet. How wonderful would it be to remove the smelly part, and replace it with a new one! So, I slipped my foot in and zipped up. I am normally a 9.5 US shoe, and these were a 10. They fit nearly perfectly. And then I stood. As I did a lap around the kitchen, I was gobsmacked. How on earth is a 6 inch stiletto heel the most comfortable shoe I have ever worn in my life? Surely it couldn't be! I placed them back in the box, as I knew I was going out that night. They were going to get a test drive.<br>
<br>
The boyfriend and I went out to hear our friends play a rock show that night. I knew it would be the perfect opportunity to see if these boots could hold up over walking several blocks from the parking lot, to standing on concrete for an extended period of time. I wore the black sequin boot tops for a bit of sparkle, and paired them with black tights, tuxedo shorts, and a white button down. The trek from the car to the venue was easy as can be...no weird gripping on concrete like a normal stiletto would. Within seconds upon entering, I was stopped twice. "Oh, my God! Those boots are amazing!" and "Sick boots, babe!" When I told them that they were a new boot and were not only comfortable, but reversible, I could see buzzed minds blown. I demonstrated the magnetic clasp that held the boot to the boot top to several of my friends, and they were all intrigued. Most of my friends being musicians on a budget, any way to find a solution to make the most out of your footwear is always appealing! We stood for about an hour and a half, and no sign of foot, back, or knee pain crept in like it normally would have by that point. And then, the ultimate test! I strutted off to the bathroom to see a man about a horse, and was stopped by a very very drunk girl. It's sort of girls' bathroom code that drunk girls always tell the truth. As this gal leaned over the sink to splash water on her face, she straightened her hair as she caught my eye in the mirror. She gave me the once-over, and stopped when she got to my boots. "Those boots are sick, man. Like, those are rockstar boots." Her slightly more sober friend popped out of the stall to check out my fancy footwear, and agreed. "You look so put together and cool." I managed to make it the rest of the night in the shoes. I experienced no pain, and received numerous compliments.<div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-giPY2xqWFJwtO9SY1zwpTHflLr2MYcg1JFQpLLYQrk_T1xu5vAIHKQEkfm0t61JJCTocloMekp_3K_1zao2G0mNvj7nTLfQzsbtbfbr7e9GVzQPmyb7RYhtuOaNAIiLl-FAdd5bLGko/s640/blogger-image--1469385189.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-giPY2xqWFJwtO9SY1zwpTHflLr2MYcg1JFQpLLYQrk_T1xu5vAIHKQEkfm0t61JJCTocloMekp_3K_1zao2G0mNvj7nTLfQzsbtbfbr7e9GVzQPmyb7RYhtuOaNAIiLl-FAdd5bLGko/s640/blogger-image--1469385189.jpg"></a></div>Worn just as a great basic ankle boot under trousers is a great option as well! <br>
<br>
I have worn the Llynda Moore boots now pretty much every day since. I have had long work days in which I wanted to still feel pretty and stylish, but be comfortable, and those boots have served that purpose. I've already told all of my friends and clients who perform on stage about these revolutionary new boots. When I explained to them that they would never have to worry about fit or falling off their heels at their gigs, they are over the moon! It happens more often than you think. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTDL3FBz9qamMYgrzJ_grH297PEDpS573WyN-In7IGL4ZcE3sLkhIEFo41rslm5fU7Wnkgtl4v7YbV3UwU_AfGaU_PJCTOs27r3RDrKymmrHiBUahjtqPzkjV9RykC0-VGpIstdX9mxoA/s640/blogger-image--1154456687.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTDL3FBz9qamMYgrzJ_grH297PEDpS573WyN-In7IGL4ZcE3sLkhIEFo41rslm5fU7Wnkgtl4v7YbV3UwU_AfGaU_PJCTOs27r3RDrKymmrHiBUahjtqPzkjV9RykC0-VGpIstdX9mxoA/s640/blogger-image--1154456687.jpg"></a></div>I also have drummed in them for a good hour and a half with no problems whatsoever. Great for my clients on stage! <br>
<br>
For more information about how you can get a pair of boots for yourself, send me a message on my website:</div><div><br></div><div>www.ThePaytonProject.com/contact</div><div><br></div><div>or go to www.llyndamooreboots.com </div><div><br></div><div>and elevate your fall/winter boot game from "Meh" to "On point!" in less than the time it takes Nancy Sinatra to learn how to dance properly. Tell her I sent you.<br>
<br>
<a href="https://youtu.be/SbyAZQ45uww">https://youtu.be/SbyAZQ45uww</a> <br><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhCMweHblgD1yBp2ABatrY7qYpZ4cl1JPrz312VztZQXlv36EYOA4NPf8NAVA50cE1VxxFRDpQzlGu_UDc_-kh3I9TU-YyduhTBLbID6F1je-EMdHQylxIiF6hWVbz3jKVfz7tYbxky_8/s640/blogger-image-2008875314.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhCMweHblgD1yBp2ABatrY7qYpZ4cl1JPrz312VztZQXlv36EYOA4NPf8NAVA50cE1VxxFRDpQzlGu_UDc_-kh3I9TU-YyduhTBLbID6F1je-EMdHQylxIiF6hWVbz3jKVfz7tYbxky_8/s640/blogger-image-2008875314.jpg"></a></div></div></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06513292621953483673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-216172288713419470.post-25289164656897886862015-09-22T13:57:00.000-07:002015-09-22T13:57:34.972-07:00How To Rock The Patchwork Trend: Fall 2015Hey, readers!<br />
<br />
Lots of excitement going on at the Payton Project headquarters! Runway shows, photo shoots, styling gigs, and much more is happening! It's ALL happening!<br />
<br />
Speaking of "It's All Happening" Let's talk about Fall 2015 trends that are going to make people scratch their heads. I'll tackle one every few weeks or so and show you how I personally like to style it, and how you can incorporate the look into your life to fit your needs. <br />
<br />
It's no secret that the 70's are "in" again. I attribute this to trends being a 20 year cyclical thing in fashion in general. If not 20, then 40. (For instance, in the 90's, there was a big surge of 70's inspired fashion, and the 90's were twenty years ago...stop to feel like an old fart here...and in the 80's, there was a lot of clear 1940's inspiration happening...think Joan Crawford shoulder pads on Dynasty.) So because everything 90's is "soooo retro" here we are. <br />
<br />
I have mixed feelings about this being hip as a whole. I for one, have been dressing like it is 1973 for about the last ten years of my life. That era has always resonated with me, and I found that the clothes were flattering for my body and lifestyle. So I stuck with it. I went through my phase of wearing truly terrible polyester vintage dresses (and I still have some) and part of me still will always wish for that time period of effortless glam. So, I get why it's back.<br />
<br />
It's also a bit odd for me to see sorority girls in bell bottoms and kimonos with Led Zeppelin t-shirts and big floppy hats...it seems a bit like "false advertising" as one of my fellow vintage enthusiast friends said of girls he was trying to date. But, nonetheless, it's here. And while the general rule stands that if you can buy the item at a fast fashion chain ala Forever 21 or H&M, the trend is dead...I like to look to the runways! Paying attention to the shows for next season will help you get a head start on what you wish to bring to your style to the table for the upcoming season. Luckily enough for me, the high fashion trends are inspired by vintage clothes...most of which I've had hanging in my closet for years! Today, I am going to talk about one that was seen all over the Fall 2015 runways. Patchwork!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF_zqiJw_Cuiw0vPYBhsvbRjWnhRQS14806V87t_laTsS-Pop5Pu3drsXJSpuXxkkvDogStKJOJwP08nevwiotdgwMMEa4C9F6vdbV60u2rN-U-G_84NFJS-JlAzfmtch4pXA_J1RHmsQ/s1600/patchwork_trend_accessories_fall_2015_burberry_chloe_lanvin-1940x1091.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF_zqiJw_Cuiw0vPYBhsvbRjWnhRQS14806V87t_laTsS-Pop5Pu3drsXJSpuXxkkvDogStKJOJwP08nevwiotdgwMMEa4C9F6vdbV60u2rN-U-G_84NFJS-JlAzfmtch4pXA_J1RHmsQ/s320/patchwork_trend_accessories_fall_2015_burberry_chloe_lanvin-1940x1091.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Fall 2015: Burberry, Chloe, Lanvin </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
And then there's these babies! Prada made these for their Fall 2015 collection. Imagine my shock when I realized I had my version of the originals in my closet! </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRDrbrUu75_fHq0K1oTc849DM90i8f9CcyCUIFJQyszF3-VnfNvQoNDHMKW2AUEqwwN04_-ck4LsaV_ZPaPnUuZs1pS_aXLO_nQyfuzEj45idir28SxrZajlB9QERzc67Cvr8BUMggi8I/s1600/Prada-Patchwork-Suede-Ankle-Boot-in-Spice-from-Neiman-Marcus-.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRDrbrUu75_fHq0K1oTc849DM90i8f9CcyCUIFJQyszF3-VnfNvQoNDHMKW2AUEqwwN04_-ck4LsaV_ZPaPnUuZs1pS_aXLO_nQyfuzEj45idir28SxrZajlB9QERzc67Cvr8BUMggi8I/s320/Prada-Patchwork-Suede-Ankle-Boot-in-Spice-from-Neiman-Marcus-.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
These booties are sold at Neiman Marcus. It said to inquire for the price in store. Which means...ridiculously expensive!</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
And here are mine. These were a thrift store purchase in 2006. I paid fifteen dollars for them. I've managed to keep them in good shape over time. Make sure when you are purchasing vintage footwear, you have something that is sturdy, or you might as well be throwing money out the window.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0WdivyP5RHKv5Kz9FP4rwEN7DqM318KyhmwpR-rFuN_6f93oRqdh8zFuSghaJcTHxgJcADKtUtd21xL3TqjeNT0YE2IUEzdKpMyYpMZe6QVybuvoDyV7MqwB98XVBt9bU4_SQVKSoK-g/s1600/IMG_8588.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0WdivyP5RHKv5Kz9FP4rwEN7DqM318KyhmwpR-rFuN_6f93oRqdh8zFuSghaJcTHxgJcADKtUtd21xL3TqjeNT0YE2IUEzdKpMyYpMZe6QVybuvoDyV7MqwB98XVBt9bU4_SQVKSoK-g/s320/IMG_8588.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
These cost me $15 9 years ago. Which means, cost per wear? They've paid for themselves...three times or more over!</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Because I work in a creative field, and I work for myself, I am pretty free to wear whatever I want, as long as it translates to "I can make you look cool on your album cover/for your show." or whatever message I am trying to communicate to my clients. In my personal style, I am trying to stay away from my familiar and comfortable bohemian style, and go for more of a Jane Birkin in the 70's/Jerry Hall vibe. I am leaning more towards tailored things, going a little lighter on the makeup (for me) and am trying to perfect that effortless chic of French 70's fashion. It's only a slight step to the side, but it is nice to walk in to a room in a tailored suit that's full of fringe kimonos from Wet Seal. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
So, how did I wear them? My lovely photographer parter, Nathan managed to snap a few photos to show you. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTIWvU2EMrUjRmSdK2G0fl_DsL6XW_UAe5Sh1VAKMSbfbcmEJCNA_bdU5beX2VsZANKR_NGaaeZraHzsjQ5gwcg1qnwvp6DEwUNossFNdg6fN2A4sAA3AU_YcKE_EBwk8AR-jtOmTBCAI/s1600/IMG_8587.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTIWvU2EMrUjRmSdK2G0fl_DsL6XW_UAe5Sh1VAKMSbfbcmEJCNA_bdU5beX2VsZANKR_NGaaeZraHzsjQ5gwcg1qnwvp6DEwUNossFNdg6fN2A4sAA3AU_YcKE_EBwk8AR-jtOmTBCAI/s320/IMG_8587.JPG" width="213" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Me and My Arrow. And my patchwork boots.</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHEgMC-Cq0QSJ4euKEYPoPK0qKRM6q0o9aF1Zp7eUzgaRaUtrhNkieEvT31ZD1xDq04Lqcd2XeKhlYhTMEAhz8rXEzIomexrE0kydY9mBjNxp735Sfhy_FhsfnWN2m4B53ZVQzHYqHD9s/s1600/IMG_8590.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHEgMC-Cq0QSJ4euKEYPoPK0qKRM6q0o9aF1Zp7eUzgaRaUtrhNkieEvT31ZD1xDq04Lqcd2XeKhlYhTMEAhz8rXEzIomexrE0kydY9mBjNxp735Sfhy_FhsfnWN2m4B53ZVQzHYqHD9s/s320/IMG_8590.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
I paired my dark skinny jeans with one of his button downs with the sleeves rolled up at first. If you guys follow me on Instagram (@PayTripper) you will see my gold 70's tassle necklaces that I am obsessed with (This one is from Pura Vida Vintage--one of my favorites) I threw a long one on over along with my gold cuff, and a cocktail ring for some added glamor. You should always wear ONE thing a day at least that makes you feel glamorous! But then, I really wanted to wear my latest score...a vintage purple Halston cropped jacket that I picked up while thrifting. It fits me like a glove! This shade of purple is also everywhere this fall. Try using it in place of navy. It's more versatile than you think..</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-fFC43ODPqIoKB-ibSRBfzn7vmVo2Y0a6X9IzN_Mfl_5s7uDDMmYROCZc5djYw5r4MSvtSDuQaXoLfXvG05rsXnTMjY-AIkw6wDJFUzKWzpLOE8M_z-IUjH-dmqWHd70lUV53Del3t1g/s1600/unnamed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-fFC43ODPqIoKB-ibSRBfzn7vmVo2Y0a6X9IzN_Mfl_5s7uDDMmYROCZc5djYw5r4MSvtSDuQaXoLfXvG05rsXnTMjY-AIkw6wDJFUzKWzpLOE8M_z-IUjH-dmqWHd70lUV53Del3t1g/s320/unnamed.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Best $6.99 I've spent in ages. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
For my friends that work in an office environment that want to try this out, I recommend sticking to ONE piece of patchwork, and letting that be the main focus. I'm seeing a lot of great patchwork flats, and even handbags right now. Try pairing a pair of trousers with a cropped jacket, and adding a patchwork bootie instead of a black flat. Get a great oversized patchwork tote in warm brown colors instead of your basic briefcase. Have fun with it! </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh88_uzQGWh_dUzpV3Mr1HRARizWce6v3C0P-ajLm_jMHV3yUfqBwuhNACbv9L29FQO-6rnGwu5wo4qwSOhseQ12BWnKa0Ue9eZDcIm3cr6GPxVGzLG_7vAvRE6l8-gB2ucJJM3nl8ttaw/s1600/prada-python-patchwork-bag-600x600.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh88_uzQGWh_dUzpV3Mr1HRARizWce6v3C0P-ajLm_jMHV3yUfqBwuhNACbv9L29FQO-6rnGwu5wo4qwSOhseQ12BWnKa0Ue9eZDcIm3cr6GPxVGzLG_7vAvRE6l8-gB2ucJJM3nl8ttaw/s320/prada-python-patchwork-bag-600x600.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
The Prada python patchwork bag. White tee, plus a gorgeous dark wash trouser jean, big sunglasses, and this bag. An instant touch of effortless chic. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
I'm even beginning to see this trend manifest itself in denim patchwork...even so much as to seeing a high fashion version of the 90's Jnco jeans. I'm still not quire sure how I feel about it. (Besides old.) </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
This trend can go from fun and chic to costumey really quickly, though. So proceed with caution!</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG_ooS6faFx9w3x0OAaY44OIvepIBwuzlG9HBQIG38iHc2dktzxbLmLfafk2cmJxmTBtec2gQn1HUfB9YtJDWdHi2i63j7Os6ZLknBfbgnSgUizPQrCs0O_TYLMHLtU4qfDtemm-P1YzA/s1600/Pictures3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG_ooS6faFx9w3x0OAaY44OIvepIBwuzlG9HBQIG38iHc2dktzxbLmLfafk2cmJxmTBtec2gQn1HUfB9YtJDWdHi2i63j7Os6ZLknBfbgnSgUizPQrCs0O_TYLMHLtU4qfDtemm-P1YzA/s320/Pictures3.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
#NeverForget</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Have fun with it, guys! Do you think you'll be adding patchwork pieces to your wardrobe this Fall? Will you be investing in the Prada pieces or digging through your mom's closet to see if she has the originals? Let me know in the comments below how you feel about it!</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Also, because I didn't want the Spears/Timberlake photo to be the one I left you with, here's a gratuitous family shot of my favorite photographer slash doggie co-parent , Nathan Cox, and our little one. Two of my favorite men. (And well dressed to boot.)</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSGEMaznOg5XuF0fWa5kzL2DoR0DWPQLtFQvB8gceB8Z58f-8VMVT4QZ0hefjINlpA9XSn1B9nmN9b6daKlSdu7KRMiRJ0q_Kel4rxB9rsfrSn76ageuoRP4xEE_YhRYnXOnvyaK_o1Xs/s1600/IMG_8602.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSGEMaznOg5XuF0fWa5kzL2DoR0DWPQLtFQvB8gceB8Z58f-8VMVT4QZ0hefjINlpA9XSn1B9nmN9b6daKlSdu7KRMiRJ0q_Kel4rxB9rsfrSn76ageuoRP4xEE_YhRYnXOnvyaK_o1Xs/s320/IMG_8602.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
Follow me on Instagram for more: <complete id="goog_1791364807">@PayTripper </complete><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSGEMaznOg5XuF0fWa5kzL2DoR0DWPQLtFQvB8gceB8Z58f-8VMVT4QZ0hefjINlpA9XSn1B9nmN9b6daKlSdu7KRMiRJ0q_Kel4rxB9rsfrSn76ageuoRP4xEE_YhRYnXOnvyaK_o1Xs/s1600/IMG_8602.JPG"></a><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span id="goog_236095575"></span><span id="goog_236095576"></span><br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06513292621953483673noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-216172288713419470.post-9595528397991562392015-08-17T16:20:00.001-07:002015-08-18T11:31:20.500-07:00This, Not That: Fashionable Substitutes For Lazy PeopleHey, readers!<br>
<br>
One of the biggest concerns my clients have is on how to cultivate their everyday style. Since I mostly work with artists, the challenge of working with someone who has an on-stage persona is getting their off stage look to be cohesive.<br>
<br>
Some people were born with an innate sense of their individual style, and how they want to present themselves. I for one, know nothing about what that is like:<br>
<br>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSVRxiNAaaxA0rplE6pU7-7l9EWVhEqrj7pdzuM-P7Lk-4wONbyBF4-3Zo7DtwBIg3aXvquY2Y1GBgzdRLTkTWJDXi9fNT229W2iFrqnSdFvskRzqllxX0hNam46p2XsOmY5-fszQanHY/s1600/10407145_10152425055595877_2139399334579604878_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSVRxiNAaaxA0rplE6pU7-7l9EWVhEqrj7pdzuM-P7Lk-4wONbyBF4-3Zo7DtwBIg3aXvquY2Y1GBgzdRLTkTWJDXi9fNT229W2iFrqnSdFvskRzqllxX0hNam46p2XsOmY5-fszQanHY/s320/10407145_10152425055595877_2139399334579604878_n.jpg" width="149"></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Or maybe I do.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
But, with cultivating my overall personal style has come years of successes and failures, trial and error, and falling into comfort zones. But, there is a difference between comfort zones, and dressing because it's comfortable. In the words of Tim Gunn</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnASYIAaxsDBMvp7CGnTKn_jDJJaXdCpfVmP7NLIgYJXvRaeWJiD_DyA3GeoiLuTAQdiMaxgZZJVs1lrO2smmHJufMgCo41GI0MdgJ_i51VYZUUC5TLnFgQKV7s0LUUh_dfmFhqrboFZo/s1600/20506_10152946082550877_8529711469301563071_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnASYIAaxsDBMvp7CGnTKn_jDJJaXdCpfVmP7NLIgYJXvRaeWJiD_DyA3GeoiLuTAQdiMaxgZZJVs1lrO2smmHJufMgCo41GI0MdgJ_i51VYZUUC5TLnFgQKV7s0LUUh_dfmFhqrboFZo/s320/20506_10152946082550877_8529711469301563071_n.jpg" width="320"></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
We have become a nation of slobs! It is commonplace to see people out and about in their pajamas, if not something similar. We have fallen into the comfort trap, and have decided that if it's not swallowing us, or shoes made of rubber, that they are "fussy" or "trying too hard" Knock that crap off. Here are some substitutes for your uniforms to amp up your look to make you look like you're not about to go to the gym or to bed.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
If you love <b>oversized t-shirts... Get a t-shirt dress!</b></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
T-shirt dresses are a wonderful way to get that oversized, unflattering, and baggy shirt out of your system. T-shirt dresses can be paired with nearly every different type of shoe...a ballet flat, a gladiator sandal, or like I do with chunky sandals. In the fall and winter, I pair mine with a pair of great boots. Throw on your favorite long necklace, and you get the familiar feeling of your stained, oversized tee and look like you paid your light bill on time!</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuHil_lW6ot7knb5vzbihZy2M5BkQRbWqy0x9V6X_zb9Tf6UI9LeGdoZeEQL0pfhjjnWwm9J8UXeWX_VUdSaMkToEWRPBXp7ixRIJNjcIS6_SEKiOt363bXAj74C0tBaBJk5Y4rYo1nKU/s1600/11043130_10152640903165877_8751232425393827899_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuHil_lW6ot7knb5vzbihZy2M5BkQRbWqy0x9V6X_zb9Tf6UI9LeGdoZeEQL0pfhjjnWwm9J8UXeWX_VUdSaMkToEWRPBXp7ixRIJNjcIS6_SEKiOt363bXAj74C0tBaBJk5Y4rYo1nKU/s320/11043130_10152640903165877_8751232425393827899_n.jpg" width="161"></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Grey t-shirt dress from People Like Art March 2015</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
If you live in <b>flip flops or the dreaded Ugg boots...Put some pep in your step with some beautiful ballet flats or gladiator sandals in Summer, and riding boots when it's cold!</b></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
As Tim Gunn mentioned above, flip flops are meant for the showers at the gym, and should be left to that alone. These rubber shoes were designed to be sanitary, not stylish. There are so many great options for other flat sandals, and in the fall and winter, riding boots are always an option for those who are worried about a heel. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-N0xBISLlGJ3FsL3F8MfnyCHksVtHu0lE-ja-87jI2noAP0akrzPuvKP-dZKRqXf8-NROLUKDsOZWuW7gvkA6RVKfkwIp3G2nOiv8ts2uL2uMRrUkxtjeJxmLBCpZscDTI7UecjD-nsU/s1600/6830703543_a01bdd4d93_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-N0xBISLlGJ3FsL3F8MfnyCHksVtHu0lE-ja-87jI2noAP0akrzPuvKP-dZKRqXf8-NROLUKDsOZWuW7gvkA6RVKfkwIp3G2nOiv8ts2uL2uMRrUkxtjeJxmLBCpZscDTI7UecjD-nsU/s320/6830703543_a01bdd4d93_o.jpg" width="213"></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Claudia Schiffer manages to slay on a Starbucks run in a causal sweater and riding boots. This look would not have this impact if she were wearing flip flops! </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnT-Hxamr2B18GaLHyGBXb6hh3PX40nJT29JcgmObn8bTqD_0X-MllfNWieIsD7R8bVhbTMR5x9l9CVfE4Gux6EFIuaKtxFuMa8BUmLEtLJRWwDlb_UfAVNdC_Uc6CZSMyVK6X7kMlabU/s1600/c0fdbe15af483388e908fc6320f6f6e5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnT-Hxamr2B18GaLHyGBXb6hh3PX40nJT29JcgmObn8bTqD_0X-MllfNWieIsD7R8bVhbTMR5x9l9CVfE4Gux6EFIuaKtxFuMa8BUmLEtLJRWwDlb_UfAVNdC_Uc6CZSMyVK6X7kMlabU/s320/c0fdbe15af483388e908fc6320f6f6e5.jpg" width="214"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZoRgermUETSIspIWT2GuhzWMTK6jEQJa6w6vEC9u2J-THXgDTP6soJMv_CuSZ0GEPg5ErCugFZjWphy_NAAjGBaFILF5p6_nDXxESZU0OidfXpZIPr0eV6sSnJjh8xDAFLTSI-xxaL0k/s1600/blog_Balerina_flats_celebrities_beckham.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZoRgermUETSIspIWT2GuhzWMTK6jEQJa6w6vEC9u2J-THXgDTP6soJMv_CuSZ0GEPg5ErCugFZjWphy_NAAjGBaFILF5p6_nDXxESZU0OidfXpZIPr0eV6sSnJjh8xDAFLTSI-xxaL0k/s320/blog_Balerina_flats_celebrities_beckham.jpg" width="172"></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Victoria Beckham and Reese Witherspoon make errands look effortless chic in ballet flats. Dressed up with a pair of tights and a solid dress, or a causal trench and skinny jeans, these shoes are a definite if comfort is your main concern.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br></div>
<br>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7gG7yFupHp0fkG87xMc7iBwB6iZRi5oB2gjPn51HAcYhdSCOUrjIhQFqv0q8GrO0slXkNCxvTKmvkHIzasCLffq3gTtapT1wIFzZgdfylGN9ql8Ax6tRG5b-ucs3Aw5GHUIyE9MXh4vk/s1600/11822359_10152967403460877_3599264115349342000_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7gG7yFupHp0fkG87xMc7iBwB6iZRi5oB2gjPn51HAcYhdSCOUrjIhQFqv0q8GrO0slXkNCxvTKmvkHIzasCLffq3gTtapT1wIFzZgdfylGN9ql8Ax6tRG5b-ucs3Aw5GHUIyE9MXh4vk/s320/11822359_10152967403460877_3599264115349342000_n.jpg" width="320"></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
And for summer, invest in a pair of cork wedges. These dressed up my vintage Stones tee and denim hot pants...because everyone needs to feel good about their trip to Home Depot. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
If you like to wear <b>sweats...trade out for some great denim and a jacket!</b></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Find what sillhouete of jeans look best on your body type. Skinny jeans aren't necessarily going to be flattering on everybody, and the same goes for high-waisted, flares, and boyfriend jeans. Personally, I think dark bootcut jeans with a bit of stretch works great for every single body. Now, denim isn't as rough and tough as it used to be. Find some with some spandex in, and invest in two great pairs instead of five cheap pairs. This will also make you feel like there's a little bit of luxe in your closet! </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
As far as an alternative to your favorite hoodie? Try a blazer over a band tee, or a cropped bomber! These are classic, and you will look like it's not laundry day. Basic black is always a great go-to, but I like to add a pop of color as well. I just picked up a beautiful vintage crushed velvet purple blazer that I am so excited to bust out this Autumn! </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKZGy14Dr1YV9VWJgET4VYwbC_aIY0U5l5VVsap40Qfu3i_t-C9fNU5wTHRl2-VvAMiwX8yduU_iK8QloTeePHk3I1A8glJTEVk_3ZtKPsMtsv0rnDXSflUYzdnMLwX8y1fJKe_O8clbI/s1600/11390478_10152836981210877_6320028492845156454_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="319" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKZGy14Dr1YV9VWJgET4VYwbC_aIY0U5l5VVsap40Qfu3i_t-C9fNU5wTHRl2-VvAMiwX8yduU_iK8QloTeePHk3I1A8glJTEVk_3ZtKPsMtsv0rnDXSflUYzdnMLwX8y1fJKe_O8clbI/s320/11390478_10152836981210877_6320028492845156454_n.jpg" width="320"></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Or this lightweight salmon colored blazer that came from Trunk in Nashville this year. I styled it with an airy tank and some turquoise and coral jewelry. This was a great look for Spring and Summer.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0cb2uz8WRg1Rr9zV_InD-dJVb5cA3qNiqzqohe4sFxdFVjlSAzRU6bTNYIsg8-3mLWQlKbr5xeEbEaGeS6MOO2iaPY6bJ8g8vr_IgHxFI_HxIx-Q0Z4-Kguw30l5ITdvMjDwWGoUtMAQ/s1600/1939702_10152844956780877_2309374947672780785_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0cb2uz8WRg1Rr9zV_InD-dJVb5cA3qNiqzqohe4sFxdFVjlSAzRU6bTNYIsg8-3mLWQlKbr5xeEbEaGeS6MOO2iaPY6bJ8g8vr_IgHxFI_HxIx-Q0Z4-Kguw30l5ITdvMjDwWGoUtMAQ/s320/1939702_10152844956780877_2309374947672780785_n.jpg" width="320"></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Prime example of the clothes making the man. Ben Bradford styled by me. Dark denim bootcut with the most beautiful couture jacket made by Eric Adler. Sweatshirt-0 Trenchcoat-2949473829</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Other alternatives that I am a huge fan of that merge style with comfort? Military jackets are a favorite of mine, a cropped dark denim, or a faux fur vest for the more daring. Style and comfort don't have to be complete polar opposites!</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Obviously, this is the tip of the iceberg in the long list of stylish substitutes to make you look more polished. Because if I have to see another pair of Ugg boots and a Juicy tracksuit at the airport, I'm going to scream! Remember, readers. Not only will you feel better about yourself overall, but like Tom Ford said:</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEgL7M9VZx9PKap4GYBoAOg2zoG5TFIa0Y1RZIMJ2MhrGLTltjcRIz1MhVdEPDaOGmsHojkhze0Y8iYXpYUBMZ96lTU7fVFLfJEc_7WMtx3pUqB9JaqrK99a7hxH0zy8IqPN6HTAg70EA/s1600/dressing-well-manners.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEgL7M9VZx9PKap4GYBoAOg2zoG5TFIa0Y1RZIMJ2MhrGLTltjcRIz1MhVdEPDaOGmsHojkhze0Y8iYXpYUBMZ96lTU7fVFLfJEc_7WMtx3pUqB9JaqrK99a7hxH0zy8IqPN6HTAg70EA/s320/dressing-well-manners.jpg" width="320"></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br></div>
<br>
<br>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
So, go and be polite! (And fashionable!) </div>
<br>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br></div>
<br>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06513292621953483673noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-216172288713419470.post-46198143280704486052015-08-11T17:30:00.001-07:002015-08-11T18:22:16.428-07:00Closet Case: What Should And Shouldn't Be In Your ClosetHello, readers!<br>
<br>
Being a stylist means that I get access into the deepest depths of my clients souls...AKA their closets A true stylist will more or less pull your inner most self out, and then dress you in a way that brings that person out from you in the most flattering way (and a great one is under budget when that happens too!) As someone who has collected clothing for over a decade, I know how easy it is to build up quite the archive of clothing and accessories. However, I was one of those people that fell into "A closet full and nothing to wear." I've recently remedied that, and want to share with you (in my opinion) what should and should not be in your closet so we can avoid that awful cliche of being perpetually late and chronically under dressed!<br>
<br>
<b>Step one. Pull everything out, and try it on.</b><br>
I know this sucks. I really do. Remember, I just went through this myself! But, I don't think what most people realize is that the reason they never have anything to wear is because nothing fits them! For me, I had a difficulty getting dressed and feeling great about what I was wearing because nothing fit me!<br>
<br>
<b>Step two. Make piles!</b><br>
OK, now that you've gone through the emotional roller coaster of trying every single piece of clothing you own on, pour yourself a drink (I got myself an iced coffee to take the edge off for this one) and let's begin shuffling! Make piles that fall under the categories as follows:<br>
<br>
<br>
<ul>
<li><i style="font-weight: bold;">Keep.</i> These pieces fit you immaculately, and are ready to wear as is right now, or have extreme sentimental value to you. For instance, I won't ever throw away the very first vintage dress I ever bought, (because it created my obsession and later, my career) but I did donate all of the rest of the unwearable vintage mini polyester dresses (because they aren't flattering, and I'll never wear them again!) </li>
</ul>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTNXQXzDlML9WhsvmuLAUdNf-mpD-sbakL8ymsr8KFT9gmW6c3YGyRDDffja6orG_h6MN3ub9Eu0vUT_KAyfk64FgeqxMTp4s6BffGtOf5IMFhooYJFWt631KQXeHoxAqpatINP8lW0Sc/s1600/unnamed-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTNXQXzDlML9WhsvmuLAUdNf-mpD-sbakL8ymsr8KFT9gmW6c3YGyRDDffja6orG_h6MN3ub9Eu0vUT_KAyfk64FgeqxMTp4s6BffGtOf5IMFhooYJFWt631KQXeHoxAqpatINP8lW0Sc/s320/unnamed-2.jpg" width="239"></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
The dress that started it all.</div>
<div>
<br></div>
<ul>
<li><i style="font-weight: bold;">Sell. </i>Maybe you have some designer gems hiding in there that you don't wear any longer. Guess what? They might be considered vintage now! There are several specialty stores that may buy them, or you can even open your own Ebay store! Hello, extra money!</li>
<li><i style="font-weight: bold;">Donate. </i>These are items that don't fit you any longer, and have no street value, but would make someone else's day. Donate these to your favorite thrift store. And don't leave the bags in the backseat of your car until they drive you crazy (like I did.)</li>
<li><i style="font-weight: bold;">Mend/Repair/Tailor</i>. This pile was rather large for me. Having lost weight, naturally, my clothes fit differently. I had a pair of high waisted Chloe jeans that I just couldn't part with. In my case, I am teaching myself how to sew, so when I feel ready, I will tackle that hurdle. Find a Mom and Pop tailor (make sure you read Yelp! reviews first) and make friends. Everyone should have a good tailor on hand!</li>
</ul>
<div>
<b>Step three is fun. Make your list. And then let's shop! </b></div>
<div>
There are things in every one's closet that they should own. When you look at your closet, your clothing should be friends, as opposed to relatives at an awkward family reunion. Believe it or not, most stylists are in favor of their clients having a uniform of the same silhouette that flatters, but is also slightly varied so you don't look too stuck! This is where I recommend hiring a professional to be an extra eye, and to be your tour guide in the world of fashion. Here is my basic list of things that every woman needs! </div>
<div>
<ul>
<li><i style="font-weight: bold;">Two pairs of dark denim that fit you properly. </i>I adore Rachel Zoe and Paige jeans in dark denim. Buy dark denim, and buy QUALITY denim! Even if you go to a Nordstrom Rack, or a TJ Maxx. Invest in your jeans. Keep your cuts classic and not too trendy in this case. Once you have your two pairs, then you can play with trendier cuts and washes when you have your basics! Which leads me to...</li>
</ul>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5fKxtkGi5JY5SeU9xtpCkJkJz_aj8pmSYevRT4wmthg3RrfQyPvDlEgxHDMieOby96Yx5ZyrLEwzkkdjaeZPHmvr8EGVuir26BTYFIcMxmXG_-x8ehwotcNVy6HPspX_JqAwbjzRmazI/s1600/article-2540961-1AB96A0000000578-717_634x902.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5fKxtkGi5JY5SeU9xtpCkJkJz_aj8pmSYevRT4wmthg3RrfQyPvDlEgxHDMieOby96Yx5ZyrLEwzkkdjaeZPHmvr8EGVuir26BTYFIcMxmXG_-x8ehwotcNVy6HPspX_JqAwbjzRmazI/s320/article-2540961-1AB96A0000000578-717_634x902.jpg" width="224"></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Rachel Zoe in her own denim. This is how I style mine more or less...minus the adorable tiny human!</div>
<div>
<br></div>
<ul>
<li><i style="font-weight: bold;">Basic tops and tees. </i> I know it seems like shopping for basic isn't nearly as fun, but this was actually fun for me! After I purged my closet, I purchased designer tops in white, navy, and black (at under $5 a pop! Bonus of being a stylist who knows where to shop!) I have actually come up with more ensembles based on a simple top! I personally love People Like Art, a local company run by a lovely woman named Shannon. She lovingly hand dyes and makes every single garment from luxurious, yet casual fabrics. They can be styled effortlessly from day to night. And her model may look familiar to you too! <div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGMpk7g2jd-QyLSU2fcpKEJzVI1u4zSPWL3fcXby6T9D_kdQRH6bDbIM7RFH1mUPDx_AewhczkWz7xjziXLy61IIq-Qf4ownd0hkkA4sxjTnRokio_fBL-QYPWVWqek7f9Eg5DpmQrhv8/s640/blogger-image--1242779172.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGMpk7g2jd-QyLSU2fcpKEJzVI1u4zSPWL3fcXby6T9D_kdQRH6bDbIM7RFH1mUPDx_AewhczkWz7xjziXLy61IIq-Qf4ownd0hkkA4sxjTnRokio_fBL-QYPWVWqek7f9Eg5DpmQrhv8/s640/blogger-image--1242779172.jpg"></a></div></li>
<li><i style="font-weight: bold;">Two little black dresses. </i> One for day made out of a jersey knit or a cotton, and a more formal. These will get you through every single events you will ever face. Dinners, dates, weddings, and funerals are all appropriate LBD occasions. My favorites are DVF wrap dresses. They are classic and are the perfect transitional dress from office to cocktails. Invest in these. They can be styled a million ways to Sunday, and you will get the mileage out of them. </li>
</ul>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwAHvAyF8c3WoxzgAiKdl39q1vovZf3dDKLgVOYo4Dda4rM-yXA-rNgtDsPLUtAg1E0AUCpuCaE1oDO5iyewvVVunost-8TUMInHq-0-JsZPWl3skyzIfPWJ1BamxpTNm5hQenP9QcUqY/s1600/images.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwAHvAyF8c3WoxzgAiKdl39q1vovZf3dDKLgVOYo4Dda4rM-yXA-rNgtDsPLUtAg1E0AUCpuCaE1oDO5iyewvVVunost-8TUMInHq-0-JsZPWl3skyzIfPWJ1BamxpTNm5hQenP9QcUqY/s1600/images.jpg"></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
How could you not want to wear a creation by a woman like that?</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br></div>
<ul>
<li><i style="font-weight: bold;">Black knee high boots. </i> Get ones with a little heel. They can be worn dressed up or down...with a trench and skinny jeans, or a dress in the fall. Nothing says classic sexy like black knee high boots!</li>
<li><i style="font-weight: bold;">A black bag and a brown bag. </i> It doesn't have to be a designer bag. It just needs to be quality! Don't skip out on quality with these...you will carry your life around in them! This is where vintage comes in handy. I have many vintage designer bags that I have picked up for under $20. </li>
<li><i style="font-weight: bold;">One formal gown you feel beautiful in.</i> Check out your local consignment shops for these. You never know when you will be given an extra ticket to the symphony, or need a black tie wedding ensemble. </li>
<li><i style="font-weight: bold;"> A clutch that is versatile. </i>My favorite is a little gold vintage one that I picked up at a vintage boutique down the street. It's from the 60's, and is gold...I often pair it with jeans as well for a pop of sparkle.</li>
<li><b>Sunnies in black and brown.</b> You wouldn't believe the extra boost to your outfit you'll have when your sunglasses match.</li>
</ul>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0w3_CvlBrYn0ksq7NebNhe9rnIySFnfg6MyyX529zJiBqrAf49Gw393CK63hoqF1REpMxkmnC_0kR4DgN7foYqTDV4qcfkS1u2xMeGwfQrYadFl1_Db5-Qop92pKL1oDdFgT8QWNVWq0/s1600/unnamed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0w3_CvlBrYn0ksq7NebNhe9rnIySFnfg6MyyX529zJiBqrAf49Gw393CK63hoqF1REpMxkmnC_0kR4DgN7foYqTDV4qcfkS1u2xMeGwfQrYadFl1_Db5-Qop92pKL1oDdFgT8QWNVWq0/s320/unnamed.jpg" width="239"></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
I prefer over sized and gradient, but pick whatever works for your face shape that makes you feel glamorous. </div>
<div>
<br></div>
<ul>
<li><i style="font-weight: bold;">Jewelry that is a conversation starter.</i> I have my grandmother's vintage fox cuff bracelet from the 70's that never fails to be a subtle attention grabber. It doesn't have to be expensive, but it needs to make you feel special every time you put it on! When I need a little oomph to my outfits, I always try to throw on a few vintage pieces to guarantee that no one else has my exact outfit. It doesn't have to be vintage. Maybe it's a pair of diamond studs, or some colored shoes...whatever makes you feel a little extra special! </li>
</ul>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbI2BVzuYm-iQaSLzBUfGzQQHX0KPz749NczpVg1r5TmyM3Vu4NvYwIaQ_LH8RyaMEpqqZ0c80d8Qs4l2NeIOp_U5RUuMS-YMeNzLPB1_RKFIwJK1ocE8obDrhjEhy-WoAnfAuaVjiofw/s1600/unnamed-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbI2BVzuYm-iQaSLzBUfGzQQHX0KPz749NczpVg1r5TmyM3Vu4NvYwIaQ_LH8RyaMEpqqZ0c80d8Qs4l2NeIOp_U5RUuMS-YMeNzLPB1_RKFIwJK1ocE8obDrhjEhy-WoAnfAuaVjiofw/s320/unnamed-1.jpg" width="320"></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
My newest and most favorite clutch, a gold cuff, two vintage onxy rings (one is actually a lipstick holder) and the fox bracelet! It's become one of my signatures!</div>
<div>
<br></div>
</div>
<div>
I highly recommend making a list of what your closet needs, and either keeping it on your phone or on a post-it in your wallet. That way, when you're out and distracted by all the things you tend to normally gravitate towards, you will have a reminder to stay on your game. I also suggest that if it is possible, for you to hire a stylist or a personal shopper to walk you through this process. I am a stylist, and even I will bring a long a stylist when I shop sometimes! It's always great to have a trained eye with a taste level and aesthetic similar to yours, or what you would like to aspire to be. Make inspiration boards on Pinterest, or actual boards with magazines and a cork board! I have one for the upcoming seasons so I will have a look that is consistent and gives me a streamlined vision for the pieces to incorporate into my Fall/Winter looks. </div>
<div>
<br></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC25IufZnF2YxxtDNMc4E8rv645cJYEe7s5Sk7tv8UGvDmMraDK0m9QH9JvMWFLLzrGqw5pKmudClUaoA8DlvN3vmnkw0vPf33EEOZ-zO5AVURUtkeeKcFK8WykXwlgegL2ZbK-wNG5nQ/s1600/11822848_1647335372178068_6952166712428141518_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC25IufZnF2YxxtDNMc4E8rv645cJYEe7s5Sk7tv8UGvDmMraDK0m9QH9JvMWFLLzrGqw5pKmudClUaoA8DlvN3vmnkw0vPf33EEOZ-zO5AVURUtkeeKcFK8WykXwlgegL2ZbK-wNG5nQ/s320/11822848_1647335372178068_6952166712428141518_n.jpg" width="320"></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
My board has fabric swatches, notes, magazine clippings, and all sorts on it!</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Feel free to contact me at www.ThePaytonProject.com/contact to schedule a closet consultation (I also do Skype meetings!) and personal shopping trips.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Happy shopping, readers! Go out and own it!</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1NncFzVi7cjXkRuCyW2KKmILR8OGEp6QnfKFGU7E5xkg0jPd5ARObdFHuXJk58-e0fzFi4UN8foIVF2rJJnT40DhYL_B0kDP-wkmqUQ9TdXU3IHIS00vRYWZTYqi00NTxdIsjitRyRus/s1600/11828736_10152964745670877_4243898228945311155_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1NncFzVi7cjXkRuCyW2KKmILR8OGEp6QnfKFGU7E5xkg0jPd5ARObdFHuXJk58-e0fzFi4UN8foIVF2rJJnT40DhYL_B0kDP-wkmqUQ9TdXU3IHIS00vRYWZTYqi00NTxdIsjitRyRus/s320/11828736_10152964745670877_4243898228945311155_n.jpg" width="320"></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
And remember to throw a leopard print in the mix while you're at it! Some days just call for it. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br></div>
<div>
<br></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06513292621953483673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-216172288713419470.post-50315779332001013642015-07-16T14:29:00.001-07:002015-07-16T14:31:26.139-07:00What They Don't Tell You About Losing WeightHey, readers.<br />
<br />
I've tried to write this blog several times now, and have only been left with drafts in my archives for the last month. This topic is very personal for me, as I'm sure it is to many of you as well.<br />
<br />
I ran into my friend Stacie a few weeks ago. Stacie is a photographer, videographer, and blogger for the Huffington Post. She also has lost 150 lbs. We stumbled into each other at a local hangout, and caught up outside the establishment. The topic turned to the inevitable...weight loss, and how the world reacts differently to us now that we are smaller than before. We were the only friend the other had who knew what it was like to be "fat shamed" and "skinny shamed" in such a short time span. That conversation has weighed on my heart ever since (no pun intended) and I finally believe I am ready to fully articulate what it means to me.<br />
<br />
My journey began nearly three years ago. I had moved out on my own and realized that if I kept eating out every meal that I would quickly be broke, and have to move back home. Horrified at the thought, I looked up "cheap vegetarian meals" and somehow ended up down the rabbit hole of the online vegan community. This lead to me watching the film "Forks Over Knives" and getting my hands on a copy of "Skinny Bitch". I haven't looked back since. <br />
<br />
At a size 16, and nearly pushing 190 pounds, I began my vegan lifestyle. I started out puffy, with a large muffin top, terrible skin, cellulite, and a severe case of depression. Today, I stand at 5'9" weigh around 125, and am a size 4/6. When I stand with my feet together, my thighs don't touch. My cellulite is gone. I now have muscle definition. My depression has become so much better, as well as my overall health...all great things! However, along with these vast improvements to my life, I had no idea that I had so much more in store for me. <br />
<br />
<br />
At the beginning of my shift, I was in a relationship. When I started to lose weight, he became terribly self conscious, and essentially kept me in a cycle that guaranteed no one would have the opportunity to look at me. It was like being held hostage. Any time we would go out, someone would say "Wow! You look great! Congratulations!" and he would tell me he liked me better the size I was before, and I was more beautiful to him then. It loosely translated to "I liked you better when you were broken like I am." I broke that off about a year after I started to lose weight. <b> I learned that misery does indeed love company. </b><br />
<br />
The stress I was under caused me a nasty case of adrenal fatigue, and I gained back about fifteen pounds. This sent me into a tailspin. How could I have gained back fifteen pounds? My entire identity had been wrapped up in Payton-who-lost-60-pounds-going-vegan. Not Sort-of-fat-but-not-as-fat-before-Payton! However, at this time in my transition, I have never been hit on, or asked out on more dates more. I swear, men prey on women like this, sometimes. That, or they sense a sort of desperation, or someone who needs validation, or maybe they think a chubby girl is a safer bet. Either way, I was approached more at this awkward in between stage than any other time in my life. Not fat, but chubby enough to feel approachable is what I called myself in this time period. I went out of my way to impress people then. I tried to make everyone like me. I made a lot of errors in judgement with this new sense of "I'm not good enough"<br />
<br />
I thought "Oh, I'll go on some weight loss boards, and get connected to a community of women just like me!" When I posted my story, along with my before and after photos, and revealed my struggles with the newfound weight gain, I was shocked that there were just as many bullies in these boards as the rest of the Internet. Complete strangers would look at my progress photos and tell me that I wasn't even that fat to begin with, and I had no right to talk about how hard my process was when their after pictures look like my before. Even when I mentioned recovering from eating disorders, and BDD, they said that I was a phony, and not welcome on their boards. When I tried to turn to the comfort of people in a similar boat as I was, I was shunned for "not being fat enough." I wish I were making this up. <b> I learned that even in the "body positive/weight loss community" that there are still bullies, and in some cases, there are bullies even greater than the ones you face on the street, or the demons you fight when you look in the mirror. </b><br />
<br />
Shortly after that, when I started to get down to the size that is considered by American standards as "thin" and could identify myself as a "skinny person" that the people around me started to treat me differently. When I was a size 8, I had everyone in my family cheering me on. They would brag to their friends about how much I had lost, and how proud they were. And then, when I became smaller than they did, that's when I saw the shift. On several occasions, I have had a handful of my family members tell me I looked anorexic. As someone who has dealt with this in the past, I was so deeply hurt. Imagine if I told my overweight relatives that they looked Type 2 Diabetic because they were getting fat! You can't tell someone they look like they have a disease based on their body type, and not expect it to hurt. Yet, when I was younger and heavy, they told me I needed to lose weight, and I was unhealthy. <b>I learned that some people only want you to succeed, just as long as you don't do better than them.</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
I am incredibly sensitive and introverted, and have social anxiety in situations that involve me spending time with people my own age, or in a crowded bar (and don't get me started on small talk. It makes me want to crawl in a hole) Before, when I would go out and start to shut down, I was just considered shy, and awkward. Now, people take it as I am stuck up, and a "skinny bitch" who thinks she's too good. When in fact, I just want to go home and be with the dog if I can't be with people who I consider to be "safe". <b>I learned that your appearance effects how people perceive your hangups. </b><br />
<b><br /></b>
And last, but not least. <b>I've learned that no one tells you the voices in your head don't go away. </b> I wish that with every size four pants I pull on over my legs that I didn't feel like the awkward girl in junior high with braces and glasses, who was begging for the boy in the next desk over to notice her. I learned that you are always going to find something wrong with your body that you are going to want to fix. I'm just as much that pubescent, awkward, somewhat shy little girl who just wants to be loved as I am the strong, lean, woman that I am today. The voices don't go away when I step on a set to model. The voices don't stop when my partner tells me that I am beautiful, and perfect the way I am. Over time, they get quieter, and I've learned how to shut them up for the most part...but, no...they never truly cease. I wish someone had told me that one years ago. <br />
<br />
Everyone has it within themselves to get healthy, to shed the pounds, to gain the muscle, and to reclaim their lives when they feel like they have lost it. Carrying around excess weight physically isn't something that has to be permanent...the resources are out there to rid yourself of that burden. Just be sure that when you do start, that you're prepared for the mental that goes along with it.<br />
<br />
I still wouldn't change a single step of this trip for the world. This has been an eye-opening experience, and I am so grateful that this has given me an opportunity to grow (and shrink) as a person. I am always going to be a work in progress be it spiritually, mentally, or physically, and I think that my biggest lesson out of everything that I need to really focus on, is being happy with myself in the present moment...because that's all we truly have. That one, I'm working on.<br />
<br />
Go forth and conquer, readers. And make sure you eat some vegetables while you do it.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCCQZ2qx6_c8PLhYQP1isQJK7-pXJlX192_6lHI-5mJBqfVNeP45DnS3or2tk7XrKVS3IJsE9idZ_iVv1OxyRWVtMcSbS1zPUuL8PF74maBDGQ28tRlCTy2JCdVWKSg_fDFS5O6DTzqn8/s1600/11377188_10102087897439002_755731573646941608_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCCQZ2qx6_c8PLhYQP1isQJK7-pXJlX192_6lHI-5mJBqfVNeP45DnS3or2tk7XrKVS3IJsE9idZ_iVv1OxyRWVtMcSbS1zPUuL8PF74maBDGQ28tRlCTy2JCdVWKSg_fDFS5O6DTzqn8/s320/11377188_10102087897439002_755731573646941608_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06513292621953483673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-216172288713419470.post-47491193579025407112015-06-18T16:13:00.001-07:002015-06-18T16:32:16.473-07:00You Wear It Well: What To Wear To A Concert.Hey, readers!<br />
<br />
I've had a few requests to bring back some fashion related posts. As a few of you may know, Payton Place started out as a fashion blog in its first life, and since starting my business as a stylist, and being a model, I'm constantly surrounded by clothes and the people who love them. So, I'll be introducing more style related posts alongside my lifestyle blogs as well. I will have more time to write these now that I have my own office out of our cute little home!<br />
<br />
Last night, my boyfriend, Nathan took me to go see the Stones. The night was truly a magical experience (dare I say it? Spiritual.) and I had a marvelous time. However, between the CMA week I worked (styling photo shoots, wardrobe assisting for live shows, and a never ending train of quick changes) I couldn't help but wonder where the real style was! We were in an arena full of people waiting to see one of the, if not the greatest living touring rock band of all time, and I found myself surrounded by fanny packs, sneakers, and sweatpants.<br />
<br />
Although it was an inferno inside the stadium, I did see a few people who managed to get it right as far as appropriate attire goes. Here are a few tips to get you through the rest of the summer concerts you'll attend that will make you feel like you're with the band!<br />
<br />
<b>Consider your environment, the venue/the venue's rules.</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
Last night, the arena did not allow women to carry in large purses. This is a new safety measure at numerous events due to contraband being snuck in over the last few years at a few events. However, there are many alternatives to remedy this situation. Invest in a high quality, cross-body bag that you can wear for long periods of time without damaging your back. I picked up one of the Hung On U bags last night at the merch stand. They are designed by none other than Mrs. Keith Richards (Patti Hansen, the supermodel!) to be easy to throw on, carry everything you need (wallet, tickets, sunnies, lipgloss, and sunscreen) Patti designed these bags during her Studio 54 days to make going from set to a night out on the town effortless, and chic. I highly recommend investing in a great bag like this for all of your concert needs.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcH45LmKGY2blCZpCz7Z41WhtFc8V-XYgK5Jn5XN0zXlE-VkC_YW4PLO0irp8U95RJfUyADlEh24HejYds-lFLVTg9Jk-qjngZNZCJovIR-fAzoxkdrQbSOWSBDjbP0Dflf-p5ZrJPv2E/s1600/Patti-Hansen-launches-Hung-On-U-handbag-line-of-crossbody-bags-sold-exclusively-at-Barneys-New-York.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcH45LmKGY2blCZpCz7Z41WhtFc8V-XYgK5Jn5XN0zXlE-VkC_YW4PLO0irp8U95RJfUyADlEh24HejYds-lFLVTg9Jk-qjngZNZCJovIR-fAzoxkdrQbSOWSBDjbP0Dflf-p5ZrJPv2E/s320/Patti-Hansen-launches-Hung-On-U-handbag-line-of-crossbody-bags-sold-exclusively-at-Barneys-New-York.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Y'all, last night was hot. Nashville is notorious for our sticky summers. I kept this in mind when picking out my ensemble for last night. I picked up this stunning vintage mini tent dress from Pura Vida Vintage (www.puravidavintage.com) and paired it with the cork wedges I wore for our Tennessean shoot with the YB Plain Girls. Nathan wore a Dylan/Analog button down, Lucky Brand jeans, and a vintage conch belt, paired with vintage cowboy boots. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyhHdMOAjNeNW5A6KW6TmX66Fl6FmZcdFdxqBp8jW_gRB2uCgMI043HSEaD-F6XyZMChNdUR_r4wFnK7UaFrkCr9U0jlfM8wOVJdaaS03-UjGkXt8CNRL8kFMT6leV24B6xpP0nXJnalk/s1600/11430183_10152861989505877_3864065737510433186_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyhHdMOAjNeNW5A6KW6TmX66Fl6FmZcdFdxqBp8jW_gRB2uCgMI043HSEaD-F6XyZMChNdUR_r4wFnK7UaFrkCr9U0jlfM8wOVJdaaS03-UjGkXt8CNRL8kFMT6leV24B6xpP0nXJnalk/s320/11430183_10152861989505877_3864065737510433186_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
The tent mini was a stylish, yet practical way to beat the heat. Because it was short, and loose, it gave what little breeze there was a chance to get to me. Also, bonus with vintage is you can usually just rinse it out in the sink and hang-dry it! The lace wedges were made of cork, which provided me with a comfortable and supportive foundation to walk on. The floor seats had a temporary rubber floor laid down, and I knew it was going to be hard walking in my normal concert heels which look a little something like this: </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidyHhwstsyQyMCVmG92hR93-ztBjS1At_uR4sQW3dolOOI0TLTG6ex-LeL6-qvD4A5Wk9mzn_18czxxKIOP68IwSKShyUD6hYtJ8_qNoCrX0bhXMtE_C4UsidbVN7-w-GMJ-zxyJ9oADQ/s1600/1088196.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidyHhwstsyQyMCVmG92hR93-ztBjS1At_uR4sQW3dolOOI0TLTG6ex-LeL6-qvD4A5Wk9mzn_18czxxKIOP68IwSKShyUD6hYtJ8_qNoCrX0bhXMtE_C4UsidbVN7-w-GMJ-zxyJ9oADQ/s320/1088196.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
If you are going to do a heel or a wedge, make sure that there is lots of support under the balls of your feet. Platforms under those piggies are the best way to guarantee your dogs won't be barking all night long. If you don't have Barbie feet like I do, and can manage to walk in flats, a nice pair of statement sandals will dress up any look you have instantly. Try a bold python print with a basic tee and jeans instead of your tennis shoes or flip flops. It'll elevate your look to the next level. I love a pair of boyfriend jeans with a black tee, a printed sandal, and a long necklace. Another option is always a fantastic pair of motorcycle boots like Patti is wearing in the photo above.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMrVySnE7uOE69_FvkEgialoQJ33vEfi1ehFqrncsFGN5L6E8O1TtWZfeqlec1SAba2D0Ck42sta8EpTk5Lj6AO6aNbYj1DRjfqcFfMQc-uhH0NQxmfiZt4y39OJ1sbwyjiwWGdrcI4rI/s1600/Rachel-Zoe-Gladys-Flat-Sandals.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMrVySnE7uOE69_FvkEgialoQJ33vEfi1ehFqrncsFGN5L6E8O1TtWZfeqlec1SAba2D0Ck42sta8EpTk5Lj6AO6aNbYj1DRjfqcFfMQc-uhH0NQxmfiZt4y39OJ1sbwyjiwWGdrcI4rI/s320/Rachel-Zoe-Gladys-Flat-Sandals.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Rachel Zoe has gorgeous flat sandals that have a slight 70's vibe going on. Bonus! They're comfy! </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<b>Think outside the shorts and t-shirt combo!</b></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<br class="Apple-interchange-newline" /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Sweat pants are for sweating. Running shoes are for running. That's it. You've/someone who wants you to share this experience has paid a bit of money for you to be able to attend this show. Dress like you care, and not like you're waiting for your next Pilates class. Gym clothes have no place in rock n roll. I saw a LOT of ill fitting lycra shorts and boxy t-shirts last night, guys. You can dress up your staples with a lightweight kimono. My favorites come from a local store in Nashville called Trunk. Here I am modeling one on their Instagram that retails for $32! Add some texture with a geode necklace, and you are ready to rock. (Get it? Geode? Rock? Anybody?) Another alternative is you can always go vintage! I love a good pair of high waisted shorts (make sure they fit appropriately, ladies! Else this could get really unflattering really fast!) and a vintage tee. It's classic, effortless, and always stylish. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSIDkybagCe3lLVQzMiPZDM6mXONi68GqnffH2x4hSoIrbnA8Cv9vxmIfmxPWSyIn9LE6L0MMmHk6aD43qNgLN0V2SOSvSMQJIKNjMGEgld6BO6XipAluT33R-4Q2xSJdP_8vzS1gRsb8/s1600/11390478_10152837057395877_231939430186950700_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSIDkybagCe3lLVQzMiPZDM6mXONi68GqnffH2x4hSoIrbnA8Cv9vxmIfmxPWSyIn9LE6L0MMmHk6aD43qNgLN0V2SOSvSMQJIKNjMGEgld6BO6XipAluT33R-4Q2xSJdP_8vzS1gRsb8/s320/11390478_10152837057395877_231939430186950700_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://fc03.deviantart.net/fs70/f/2011/140/e/a/unused_carly_simon_spy_79_by_cuchillooro-d3gtrrt.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://fc03.deviantart.net/fs70/f/2011/140/e/a/unused_carly_simon_spy_79_by_cuchillooro-d3gtrrt.jpg" height="319" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Carly Simon's got the right idea. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
A lot of women are afraid of dresses. They seem like too much work or too fussy. When in reality? Dresses are the EASIEST THING EVER. You don't even have to wear pants! That's the best part! What better way to catch a breeze than to not wear pants? I like flowy, lightweight, and bold mini dresses for summer evening events because they offer a retro flair (unless you're wearing vintage, of course!) and they can be dressed up or down. I really like People Like Art and their t-shirt dresses. They are locally made out of sustainable fabrics, and are basically like wearing nothing. Trunk also has insanely comfortable dresses that are breathable. My favorite one also retails for $32 and has a cape attached! Throw on a bold statement necklace and strap some sandals on with them! You'll be cooler in temperature and look like a million bucks. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix2eaJHyWCrSCo1CrNrHB_C-K5mamvhNIkhyphenhyphenEKDlTbCoQ7QFExVzp7gyW5NXn-sIqBsDRKpy-8fW9m2cIq9pHa2ywIh4roXcqOb0NVU5s4NKXw3gIbOMFEmnag8HdThbWaZ6x131q2UH0/s1600/10439057_10152781816795877_355493978627997330_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix2eaJHyWCrSCo1CrNrHB_C-K5mamvhNIkhyphenhyphenEKDlTbCoQ7QFExVzp7gyW5NXn-sIqBsDRKpy-8fW9m2cIq9pHa2ywIh4roXcqOb0NVU5s4NKXw3gIbOMFEmnag8HdThbWaZ6x131q2UH0/s320/10439057_10152781816795877_355493978627997330_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrzHHdzV7GmSWb01a_l_M0VFhd29WlTWRAJiSjrcdgspWPNflWpFeLO7c2q8CKAElSu4nFKNxNVZfYjMIPf-q1dnAFQwrOZf-oY0-woTqa6tkK_EjNFj-F-taxvYv2l3qMs9x9ieyEO0s/s1600/11169880_10152749541190877_3340365261990258791_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrzHHdzV7GmSWb01a_l_M0VFhd29WlTWRAJiSjrcdgspWPNflWpFeLO7c2q8CKAElSu4nFKNxNVZfYjMIPf-q1dnAFQwrOZf-oY0-woTqa6tkK_EjNFj-F-taxvYv2l3qMs9x9ieyEO0s/s320/11169880_10152749541190877_3340365261990258791_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Behind the scenes of the last People Like Art 2015 Lookbook. I want to live in this dress!</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_3KG-N2TIfCAYRv3gJj_KAGpyx9wtNcCU-Y2Xw21SlaMFzLHAI4IhfhurJOl0q7mICuZQQDQOoxwJ4g8oezCFEAB_Iyx2qQC9N6dEKlxqETpnS3TV0tHi1bs6WUubdyGEhcMZ_JCIKxw/s1600/11111798_10152799781455877_7583733575066444791_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_3KG-N2TIfCAYRv3gJj_KAGpyx9wtNcCU-Y2Xw21SlaMFzLHAI4IhfhurJOl0q7mICuZQQDQOoxwJ4g8oezCFEAB_Iyx2qQC9N6dEKlxqETpnS3TV0tHi1bs6WUubdyGEhcMZ_JCIKxw/s320/11111798_10152799781455877_7583733575066444791_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
This one is a vintage handkerchief dress that I stole from my mother's closet! It was perfect for Abbey Road on the River in Louisville over Memorial Day weekend. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<b>Don't wear the band you are seeing's t-shirt to their own concert.</b><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Come on, guys. Have a little more originality than that. Honestly, that's all I have to say about that. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<b>SPF, primer, earplugs, and hairspray that holds!</b></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Ladies, tanning is so passe. We all know it gives you skin cancer and wrinkles, and no one wants to look like a couch in a crop top. Be sure to wear an SPF of at least 15 (and make sure it's natural so none of those icky chemicals get in your body) and if you are like me, and love wearing makeup, be sure to set it with a primer. I use natural coco butter as a BB cream primer, and Bobbi Brown primer for my eyelids. Between that and my Dior Iconic mascara, my makeup stayed perfect all night. If you are a bare faced beauty, own it. But if you like a little glam, make sure it'll stay put. Even through your fan girl tears. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVfRqLqcZ1xENVaEBakDHAElVjvSBpbneekYl4m_gN0hN5oRJF1eJc1J6iNpq0ZWzwWCFBA3IV428nAP6vY7Ei4YHzLMvYKGS-eaMMyZ137HIuFFUDU5OYsYiHUcf59p8rtpyZEIX1oSY/s1600/485f2fe39df41e49f667f1ac3f747a35.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="218" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVfRqLqcZ1xENVaEBakDHAElVjvSBpbneekYl4m_gN0hN5oRJF1eJc1J6iNpq0ZWzwWCFBA3IV428nAP6vY7Ei4YHzLMvYKGS-eaMMyZ137HIuFFUDU5OYsYiHUcf59p8rtpyZEIX1oSY/s320/485f2fe39df41e49f667f1ac3f747a35.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Also, ear plugs are a must to protect your precious ear drums from the shrieks and squeals! And a good hairspray will stand the test of your hair pulling. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span id="goog_1312875792"></span><span id="goog_1312875793"></span><br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Don't be scared to stand out a little this season. After all, half of rock n roll is looking cool. We have a few shows coming up this summer that I am really looking forward to seeing. Brian Wilson, Loretta Lynn, The Monkees to name a few...Looks like I'll have to shop some more. Happy concert going, readers! May your summer soundtrack be perfect, may your sunburns always be even,</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR-CXJHIqn8vEaVlwX_po4dshzPXnvCxZQfPf9u4HfwnhROgbYGjXVUzoGlvLLzUN9M_QVmbEzV5S6vE_uCGeTS2-s2zG9AdFvn3phPF9VV3OJVt0p3g6mbxLVjN1V9OhWyzC0eNyKR28/s1600/11209429_10152806928670877_5707675240033313652_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR-CXJHIqn8vEaVlwX_po4dshzPXnvCxZQfPf9u4HfwnhROgbYGjXVUzoGlvLLzUN9M_QVmbEzV5S6vE_uCGeTS2-s2zG9AdFvn3phPF9VV3OJVt0p3g6mbxLVjN1V9OhWyzC0eNyKR28/s320/11209429_10152806928670877_5707675240033313652_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
And may your shorts and t-shirt combo always be accessorized to perfection. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Don't forget your sunscreen! </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06513292621953483673noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-216172288713419470.post-8909118786051431082015-05-13T14:52:00.001-07:002015-05-13T15:00:54.597-07:00Ch-ch-changesChange. Ahh. Something that is inevitable to every single creature on earth. The caterpillars must turn into butterflies. The leaves must change colors. You know, just like The Byrds say...<div><br></div><div>Perhaps it was due to my childhood that change is such a hard pill to swallow. I haven't really felt stable ever. I wonder if stability is a myth perpetuated by the media...like perfect skin and jeans that don't fade when you wash them.</div><div><br></div><div>It seems like the last few years of my life have been nothing but changes-some drastic, and some not. I've moved five times in the last four years, and before that, it was an average of once a year if not more. I wasn't raised in a situation where I was really shown what a safe and healthy relationship was for the first sixteen years of my life...probably the years that matter the most. I've lost two friends that were more like family to me, and am about to lose my favorite aunt to the same disease in less than a year. I am at a crossroads in my careers. I feel like change has brought me rocky ground to stand on, and I'm wearing six inch heels on that shaky bit of land.</div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiegcFWtWvun6Bji0TKFRkr58r5iSSz1VyKZGniafycrDE7GtRhK85jwCUHCCVy7yJePOU9rRnTdeJaUpo9hFFtiQzbHnhX7y9VEiPlP8eS9P4SqXhkO0nMEN62vcH-6a_0d1y6ibYR010/s640/blogger-image--149217277.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiegcFWtWvun6Bji0TKFRkr58r5iSSz1VyKZGniafycrDE7GtRhK85jwCUHCCVy7yJePOU9rRnTdeJaUpo9hFFtiQzbHnhX7y9VEiPlP8eS9P4SqXhkO0nMEN62vcH-6a_0d1y6ibYR010/s640/blogger-image--149217277.jpg"></a></div>And I'm wearing those six inch heels while standing on my head...</div><div><br></div><div>When chaos and change go on all around me, I shut down. It's been a coping mechanism since before I knew what a coping mechanism was. I don't realize I'm doing it until someone snaps me out of it. I was always a quiet child for the most part...I didn't say a word until I was four...so it doesn't really raise any eyebrows for people who've known me long.</div><div><br></div><div>Change effects my quest for perfection. Maybe it's because I'm a virgo, or maybe it's because I've lived in disorder my entire life, that my heart cries out for order, but I am on a never ending quest for perfection. I of course know that this will never happen, and it's unobtainable, but there's a familiar comfort in trying to reach for it. Much like nail biting, nervous eating, and holding everything in until it's too late, and I'm having a panic attack over tacos (that was one time!) instead of what's really bothering me, there's a familiar comfort in anxiety and stress. It's the only way I know how to live. It's the only way I have been taught to live. I have been trained to believe that everyone will leave, nothing will ever stay the same, and trying to build something permanent will be harder than trying to catch smoke with your bare hands.</div><div><br></div><div>But, yesterday morning I had a realization. Not all change is bad change.</div><div>I came in from a Pilates class and sat at our kitchen table while I drank my coffee and looked around. I tried to mindfully enjoy my breakfast, giving my body gratitude and love for working so well. I practiced gratitude for our beautiful little kitchen, which was starting to shape up to look like one I had dreamed about when I was younger, and had even written about in my journal. My little guy pawed at me, begging me for part of my beet muffin. The sounds of The Who filled our home that we had been struggling to put together for the last few days. My leggings were falling down my hips. As I hiked them up to go and flip the record, I had a realization. All of these great things were also brought on my change. Things that I felt so blessed and so grateful to have were all products of change! </div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6HPlBF_S557L4zAZqPFf92xxN2K75RL9eWgJfwIl3rETZtJNOhsXX0rtavjNf7NsrUoB5j_Am4-dj5iyiYE4DhLJals91m34dKXT2G23ODu5aaIB2pzw3LDqFPn-x1MYJ_QjMnFGu_4k/s640/blogger-image--1672705599.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6HPlBF_S557L4zAZqPFf92xxN2K75RL9eWgJfwIl3rETZtJNOhsXX0rtavjNf7NsrUoB5j_Am4-dj5iyiYE4DhLJals91m34dKXT2G23ODu5aaIB2pzw3LDqFPn-x1MYJ_QjMnFGu_4k/s640/blogger-image--1672705599.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Our little kitchen</div><br></div><div><br></div><div>If I hadn't changed my lifestyle, I would still be unhealthy and unhappy with the way I was looking, and feeling crappy. Old Payton wouldn't dream of going to Pilates or eating beets! She wouldn't dream of being in single digit clothing, or walking on a runway. Change did that!</div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDxDJGt-WSHAX0J5sAUH6xkiajjSruGsuHNwvEhKvn5CuBX4FkToS3LX_JKoRNhUVroHVwZ8L3qpg-dK0wqM5hHbcGBwv4p3rN3HJUotiGnHWsxR-lFfxG1HEsICFc2Q_C6cHcLzPJJmk/s640/blogger-image--886110350.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDxDJGt-WSHAX0J5sAUH6xkiajjSruGsuHNwvEhKvn5CuBX4FkToS3LX_JKoRNhUVroHVwZ8L3qpg-dK0wqM5hHbcGBwv4p3rN3HJUotiGnHWsxR-lFfxG1HEsICFc2Q_C6cHcLzPJJmk/s640/blogger-image--886110350.jpg"></a></div>Before and after</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP9cGlpCUVV2nvgkd43A2WcewUYCnNXqzZ3nqs30Byx0fePhNYoAnoeHlKvwuHB9Fz37MaqRUp6DP_ObjtCF_4MxdaA_fwJKrVfIKCYTlSEP3DRKl_rHuRVtmhtsj12o5yV-Huj2TtiQk/s640/blogger-image-115128778.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP9cGlpCUVV2nvgkd43A2WcewUYCnNXqzZ3nqs30Byx0fePhNYoAnoeHlKvwuHB9Fz37MaqRUp6DP_ObjtCF_4MxdaA_fwJKrVfIKCYTlSEP3DRKl_rHuRVtmhtsj12o5yV-Huj2TtiQk/s640/blogger-image-115128778.jpg"></a></div>Runway show spring 2015</div><div><br></div><div>If I hadn't changed my mind about being single and living in a terrible environment, I wouldn't have experienced the most challenging, and most rewarding year of my life with my boyfriend, Nathan. I have grown so much as a person because of our shared experiences. I wouldn't have this beautiful life we are building together in our cute little home if I had been afraid of change.</div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirNP6WPpxs6tC5956H2cFv2_7K08lZdgbnM9h7bdhfWxBA-ul1kJ2tXO7wooMHAhJA7ImfpOsGEhCQMHr9F-gJVOg3963e7kDKnpr8atSQek4HvrHyhIHuqDDgxVyd-xtuQp1SKnW6H8E/s640/blogger-image-639802974.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirNP6WPpxs6tC5956H2cFv2_7K08lZdgbnM9h7bdhfWxBA-ul1kJ2tXO7wooMHAhJA7ImfpOsGEhCQMHr9F-gJVOg3963e7kDKnpr8atSQek4HvrHyhIHuqDDgxVyd-xtuQp1SKnW6H8E/s640/blogger-image-639802974.jpg"></a></div>On our one year anniversary</div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6NM33FsHo3Vzf84ikpcZlC3lMuBpz0fmNkzntNL_NJVTPy7eqjddNaLXIBgE9TE2iOjbaaml3IsDvbGFJoOL41X-MzR932ng5474uABEhol8JkZKSfuFGiKwX9j-5DI2nR8_VS_azlG0/s640/blogger-image--364268771.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6NM33FsHo3Vzf84ikpcZlC3lMuBpz0fmNkzntNL_NJVTPy7eqjddNaLXIBgE9TE2iOjbaaml3IsDvbGFJoOL41X-MzR932ng5474uABEhol8JkZKSfuFGiKwX9j-5DI2nR8_VS_azlG0/s640/blogger-image--364268771.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Floor seats for the Who!</div><br></div><div>I wouldn't have Arrow if I had wanted to stay comfortable and not bothered. And he's the light of my life! </div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNv08RxE34b0CXI6c_KN7jf-ptHVlThzc5ZvG3IU0x7T9Poiu5zTyXARjrwOD8ppqk-JQJHldcl7JDT-3K5wO01lE3pmusTpgIumxbQfIL9Y0Rf3xO1Whfl-HGg5HOUS2k_YUixpBZ-lU/s640/blogger-image--76268940.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNv08RxE34b0CXI6c_KN7jf-ptHVlThzc5ZvG3IU0x7T9Poiu5zTyXARjrwOD8ppqk-JQJHldcl7JDT-3K5wO01lE3pmusTpgIumxbQfIL9Y0Rf3xO1Whfl-HGg5HOUS2k_YUixpBZ-lU/s640/blogger-image--76268940.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwze06iTm3qNMFnwnvRdoXLJFsX34I1oyD8BLF4medy7ZZqaSYLLwjA3KmpVM94o-wkdvluc8sp7RqeUduglY_24pN2nXlWGW_J7Lj0r1Bzo_l2ZPIFX7QsVcKA7hFYC5-MaYaFTO4Yn8/s640/blogger-image--2066128487.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwze06iTm3qNMFnwnvRdoXLJFsX34I1oyD8BLF4medy7ZZqaSYLLwjA3KmpVM94o-wkdvluc8sp7RqeUduglY_24pN2nXlWGW_J7Lj0r1Bzo_l2ZPIFX7QsVcKA7hFYC5-MaYaFTO4Yn8/s640/blogger-image--2066128487.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><br></div><div>If I hadn't changed and realized my worth, I would still be working at a terrible 9-5 instead of working on building my own business doing things that I love and helping people.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT_xKMCK8SPLZj9S0hUfqApOy5adcD26uOi_o86cv88AzNQnYhWCNprz97NVNxFj2EKEx9H0h3abV86AdWIjcz_5NLewXW2KeW9qR74PeeXxGBLdEDPCC9Y1tEG1UdstXMgfjU6yaNhug/s640/blogger-image-1312196413.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT_xKMCK8SPLZj9S0hUfqApOy5adcD26uOi_o86cv88AzNQnYhWCNprz97NVNxFj2EKEx9H0h3abV86AdWIjcz_5NLewXW2KeW9qR74PeeXxGBLdEDPCC9Y1tEG1UdstXMgfjU6yaNhug/s640/blogger-image-1312196413.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div>Dressing Crystal Gayle and Charley Pride</div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div>So, yeah, maybe change does suck sometimes. But if there's one thing I am working on, it's changing the way I look at the world. Just like coal turning into a diamond, or scraps of metal transforming into a Rolls Royce, or a really great vintage dress that gets reworked into a new outfit, change can be good. Change can make things better. </div><div><br></div><div>Trying to change my mind about change? That's one thing I can definitely try to...</div><div><br></div><div>Well, you know. </div><div><br></div><div><br></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06513292621953483673noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-216172288713419470.post-39912236247995410292015-03-25T12:44:00.001-07:002015-03-25T16:05:44.945-07:00Build Your Own Chocolate Factory."You know what happened to the man who got everything he ever wanted...he lived happily ever after." -Willy Wonka<div><br></div><div>So you're probably wondering why I am quoting a fictional character at the beginning of this blog, right? </div><div><br></div><div>As many of you who know, I am seldom out and about without my faithful journal close by. I have faithfully kept a record of my thoughts for the past sixteen years. I think it's the cheapest form of self realization one can possibly find. And I also think it helps keep you in check. Going back and reading your stream of consciousness as a third party makes you more aware of your progress and where to move next. </div><div><br></div><div>I also believe that you create your own reality. I don't buy into excuses anyone may make. I just don't. I think that you can have everything you've ever dreamed and then some...your own chocolate factory. And the only one standing in the way is yourself.</div><div><br></div><div>"But, Payton. I grew up poor. My genetics are bad. My dad didn't love me enough. My boyfriend won't let me. I didn't go to college. I can't." And I'm here to tell you that you absolutely can. The job you want? You can have it. The body you desire? Within reach. The partner, the car, the home...you can have it. And the only one standing in between you and what you so crave is yourself.</div><div><br></div><div>The only reason I can tell you this with such confidence is that I have been there. I have had every excuse under the sun. I couldn't get the body I wanted because I was stressed, I didn't have enough money to eat properly, I was tired. I couldn't have the job I wanted because I was fat. I couldn't have the lifestyle I wanted because I couldn't get the job I wanted because I couldn't have the body I desired. I had terrible relationships because my stepmom beat me and I didn't trust men. I worked two jobs at one time that I both hated, I had a hormonal imbalance, blah blah blah, and I cried myself to sleep at night every single night without fail because I was so distraught at the thought of never accomplishing my dreams, but I wasn't willing to do anything to move in the direction of accomplishing them, because in my mind I was "stuck"</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8HRG7Qx9CMkACoYmWBFnua1jc7wgM7bImbPF8TDEksfUKiI2OwkMUYpga32AFw32OjvtO6R3DfV_QWpQpja4MNLjGWfmGPnEy6ckgdPkdM2L4PRMQ-dqbm-MehRokmqmiliJRQWUZJwo/s640/blogger-image-1288125730.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8HRG7Qx9CMkACoYmWBFnua1jc7wgM7bImbPF8TDEksfUKiI2OwkMUYpga32AFw32OjvtO6R3DfV_QWpQpja4MNLjGWfmGPnEy6ckgdPkdM2L4PRMQ-dqbm-MehRokmqmiliJRQWUZJwo/s640/blogger-image-1288125730.jpg"></a></div>That Payton wouldn't pose for anyone in hot pants that were a size 6. She was too afraid of success, confidence, and spandex. <div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSBkzkB8sVpoTtps4QxiO_Ku0YpKUWc6UxmMJMZ0pnywVEGixY1JI_U8uAW_7fIh9UE3mq8lqhT7Frgg4550lk4UV0BnMiH24iBMROQxkgdz0nFCqhbJZ86Ws4MDMTKA-RvradyWejbrI/s640/blogger-image--2040446356.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSBkzkB8sVpoTtps4QxiO_Ku0YpKUWc6UxmMJMZ0pnywVEGixY1JI_U8uAW_7fIh9UE3mq8lqhT7Frgg4550lk4UV0BnMiH24iBMROQxkgdz0nFCqhbJZ86Ws4MDMTKA-RvradyWejbrI/s640/blogger-image--2040446356.jpg"></a></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Preview and photo by Nathan Cox.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div><br></div><div>About five years ago, I was introduced to the teachings of the Law of Attraction and the laws of the universe. When people scoffed at me, I reminded them that gravity was a law of the universe as well, and no one seemed to mind that. I created vision boards, and started to journal differently. When I was nineteen, I wrote out a day in what my dream life would be. I wrote about what my day consisted of in such detail that I even included smells and tastes. I wrote about my dream body, my partner, my home, my dog...I closed the last page of my journal and put it away.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqgJrFFb0-huXvEkI2lHevEii6XtPtvPwD_7npbLSZhCWrCsyhrnxw94H5635iIE3ZkA67ig1o84diScQw5SNoomrHD8FgzHmEjlgJUunCabPIlEkOdeNpjnJMJ1gtjT8TAzY9f2pww_8/s640/blogger-image-1353529454.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqgJrFFb0-huXvEkI2lHevEii6XtPtvPwD_7npbLSZhCWrCsyhrnxw94H5635iIE3ZkA67ig1o84diScQw5SNoomrHD8FgzHmEjlgJUunCabPIlEkOdeNpjnJMJ1gtjT8TAzY9f2pww_8/s640/blogger-image-1353529454.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The dog I so desperately wanted, my best friend, Arrow. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig-kUWxUqhgDY5t2ZzwUGZ_AJInXeq8UTQQg-kSQXllTj4JDm8qgiFF_V8NJwrVonCpWKQ9aMQ2qGK4Q452jeYfgni0ROuaUD_eH6HKeY98_PL-UrNMc6X70y6eL7_bJC0e5hYveLeb4s/s640/blogger-image--359485221.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig-kUWxUqhgDY5t2ZzwUGZ_AJInXeq8UTQQg-kSQXllTj4JDm8qgiFF_V8NJwrVonCpWKQ9aMQ2qGK4Q452jeYfgni0ROuaUD_eH6HKeY98_PL-UrNMc6X70y6eL7_bJC0e5hYveLeb4s/s640/blogger-image--359485221.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Sitting in his chair at my job that seems to have been tailored just for me. I can only describe him entering into my life as predestined fate. My destiny dog.</div><br></div><br></div><div><br></div><div>I continued to journal, but if you read them in chronological order, about three years ago I start to slip. My language becomes more harsh, more criticism happens, I start to feel trapped, desperate, and afraid. The people I started to attract into my life had ulterior motives, and there's a giant plot twist in my narrative. I became depressed, I gained weight I had worked so hard to lose back, I got robbed on more than one occasion in nearly every sense of the word, I lost friends...It wasn't until I went back and read those passages that I realized it was time to get back on track. I took control of my life and started back on the path of creating the life I wanted. And when I did, all the wrong people and circumstances fell by the way side, I was given the urge to start yoga classes which has shaped my body into one I am proud of, a freak happening brought me my partner that treats me like a queen, a devestating loss brought me my dog, an internal rustling helped me find my jobs, I started meeting all the right people and being in the right places at the right times. Because I decided to. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6utkdNNRWii4qjkWn1PXOfJrYLEnU4yAVjuBiJjKXKHnOQU8T7Egqcu_8sF0k5txeiSjz5v5NF0waPBUVMERuWssaOZrp9vEdvuMyq_fneGhJFE7mNjevBp4Ot1jqse8aXlXUWMkKJNI/s640/blogger-image--868308373.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6utkdNNRWii4qjkWn1PXOfJrYLEnU4yAVjuBiJjKXKHnOQU8T7Egqcu_8sF0k5txeiSjz5v5NF0waPBUVMERuWssaOZrp9vEdvuMyq_fneGhJFE7mNjevBp4Ot1jqse8aXlXUWMkKJNI/s640/blogger-image--868308373.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><br></div><div>I woke up today in a house in the neighborhood I had picked out for myself when I was eighteen. The dog snoozing blissfully at my feet was just like the photo of one I had pinned up on a bulletin board in my cheap rented room five years ago. The person next to me is above and beyond what I could have written him to be like in his ways of treating me like a queen and being supportive and loving. I got to a job that I am happy to be at, while looking at a schedule full of stuff that I said I would always have (styling, modeling, acting, concerts) My muscles are blissfully aching from a yoga class surrounded by something else I wanted--a community of strong and beautiful women to support each other. And as I walked down the street today on a little break from work, my heels clacking on the brick sidewalk, I couldn't help but think of an entry from March of 2010.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw2nPcy_ccNN6ouPoadkziDt-INi-D9j2ACoGxefUtSte_SQrV_Qt2kYfUB0H9Bdj_7GZFhpbmQ3YuQeF2F46Ypb_9n-qu-PRmsqaLX6QhxAFFlkrpjhstbz6TP53gCXTufKj_hEHvo4A/s640/blogger-image-1118506422.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw2nPcy_ccNN6ouPoadkziDt-INi-D9j2ACoGxefUtSte_SQrV_Qt2kYfUB0H9Bdj_7GZFhpbmQ3YuQeF2F46Ypb_9n-qu-PRmsqaLX6QhxAFFlkrpjhstbz6TP53gCXTufKj_hEHvo4A/s640/blogger-image-1118506422.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXUyGRccsKBXtnVgxp05hXht5sAogoMsEaDHUXl6YDq6zNt_4ktu4URywbwNRPvJ_uYJu8Cr2l-LC8kGHu5xvEVNXpUnvnsKxhPETlfsLeyMBBEVzv8qH0s2XWr4K6QT-PqP98JXZ3tmw/s640/blogger-image--277835656.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXUyGRccsKBXtnVgxp05hXht5sAogoMsEaDHUXl6YDq6zNt_4ktu4URywbwNRPvJ_uYJu8Cr2l-LC8kGHu5xvEVNXpUnvnsKxhPETlfsLeyMBBEVzv8qH0s2XWr4K6QT-PqP98JXZ3tmw/s640/blogger-image--277835656.jpg"></a></div>Behind the scenes of yesterday's photo shoot complete with glam squad. Two shoots booked in two days. Something I used to only dream of.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb5um0-zgFTSVXZUMpcfGhHRW6-CmhNh8qXjoO73mYIqMxMegw1QFbyWEeuALVex1vr1PuxtpoO43SA1wJPcf5kimLOnyaIUhWgKRph25s6oS5pmN0e4Bb3BAoB7LTTISxy-cKmQljA0o/s640/blogger-image-910375974.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb5um0-zgFTSVXZUMpcfGhHRW6-CmhNh8qXjoO73mYIqMxMegw1QFbyWEeuALVex1vr1PuxtpoO43SA1wJPcf5kimLOnyaIUhWgKRph25s6oS5pmN0e4Bb3BAoB7LTTISxy-cKmQljA0o/s640/blogger-image-910375974.jpg"></a></div><br></div>Left: size 14/16. Right: size 6</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVZh-WtdUouyMgxzXtE46_zAGhhk7TBFh8Jx9uZRS1oc1ne4ZwQeWzSMKwD_uydyzZpe6E1aVfIuBi0sqA7w2xTd7TNaCllioBnb3SsyOo8QRgt_Mv10OQ7wZdxgfJXyVHOTG99WpGzq0/s640/blogger-image-1071888301.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVZh-WtdUouyMgxzXtE46_zAGhhk7TBFh8Jx9uZRS1oc1ne4ZwQeWzSMKwD_uydyzZpe6E1aVfIuBi0sqA7w2xTd7TNaCllioBnb3SsyOo8QRgt_Mv10OQ7wZdxgfJXyVHOTG99WpGzq0/s640/blogger-image-1071888301.jpg"></a></div>Taking care of rock royalty's wardrobe. In heels. </div><br></div><div>March 5, 2010:</div><div><i>...one day I will be able to wear whatever the hell I want to to work. I'll wear my highest heels if I feel like it. And I'll have a little fluffy white dog that's part shihtzu like Hannah (</i>my dog at the time) <i> is. <b>And I'll walk my cute little dog down the streets of East Nashville and say hello to all of my artist neighbors. I'll have stacks of checks to take to the bank to do with all of my jobs--styling and modeling and writing. And I'll have a cute little house in Inglewood that I'll share with my cute boyfriend with curly hair who loves records as much as I do, treats me like a queen, and is an artistic genius. I also will have learned how to cook then and instead of a fourteen, I'll be a size six. I will travel so much that I'll be able to see two coasts in months of each other. I will feel fulfilled and happy, and I'll know that I created this for myself. </b></i></div><div><i><b><br></b></i></div><div><i><b><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEG8uKv6P9irEAmJixDKYutGSVQ-7H01oT8TAsHx6CfUIX8qpnfzQjZ6DFGQNHOK7hrbzrqyUyBgeir3xasjcz2cFbKI26fJpZo8t7LGZydBnJi7Pf9fexziP1DWgLYDLZXsMX02_3mNM/s640/blogger-image-1150216984.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEG8uKv6P9irEAmJixDKYutGSVQ-7H01oT8TAsHx6CfUIX8qpnfzQjZ6DFGQNHOK7hrbzrqyUyBgeir3xasjcz2cFbKI26fJpZo8t7LGZydBnJi7Pf9fexziP1DWgLYDLZXsMX02_3mNM/s640/blogger-image-1150216984.jpg"></a></div></b></i></div><div><b><i>Size 6 jeans. Long gone are the double digits. </i></b></div><div><i><b><br></b></i></div><div><i><b><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_ugSjk7kojuCdeLXqKuTXgZFexTFeovA68Wm6UJUgvr9ObsohtyMOjJn0gAOiup47U-6jW701IqVpVMnHxIKD1Y6tJRXVgeQzwLLplIXzjJFHYycF2jZyV8bCDhInOy0G-jhSve3O_NI/s640/blogger-image--1504521516.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_ugSjk7kojuCdeLXqKuTXgZFexTFeovA68Wm6UJUgvr9ObsohtyMOjJn0gAOiup47U-6jW701IqVpVMnHxIKD1Y6tJRXVgeQzwLLplIXzjJFHYycF2jZyV8bCDhInOy0G-jhSve3O_NI/s640/blogger-image--1504521516.jpg"></a></div></b></i></div><div><i><b>The cute boyfriend who is a brilliant photographer. And check out that curly hair!</b></i></div><div><i><b><br></b></i></div><div><i><b><br></b></i></div><div><b>I go on and on about my plans for my life by the time I turn this age and that age, and so on and so forth. (I do believe a ring that looks like Elizabeth Taylor's is mentioned along with a walk in closet are mentioned) and while I don't have these things now, I know they are on its way. There are so many things I have had to stop saying to myself to get here. I had to move out of my own way. I had to listen to my gut. But today, I could wake up and say to myself that I was on the right track. </b></div><div><b><br></b></div><div><b>And if I can get there? You can too.</b></div><div><b><br></b></div><div><b><i>March 25, 2015:</i></b></div><div><b><i><br></i></b></div><div><b><i>Dear eighteen year old Payton: Mission Accomplished. You got this. </i></b></div><div><b><i><br></i></b></div><div><b>Keep the faith, readers. You've got this too. The life you want is within your reach if you will just step out of your own way. Now go build your own damn chocolate factory. </b></div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCAPq_-tF-yUklYBMijCMH4AI20v_w43FHrsW76c3PZDl3sI_UnNmWnIPrzDnQFYQQ_tF_dVP1upL7r5n8x1pByTLqC3_ntQzNIy1rnjlTJaxXTpyVSq2H0Ib-XJkR64CPvk_sLlm7s2Y/s640/blogger-image--1981307352.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCAPq_-tF-yUklYBMijCMH4AI20v_w43FHrsW76c3PZDl3sI_UnNmWnIPrzDnQFYQQ_tF_dVP1upL7r5n8x1pByTLqC3_ntQzNIy1rnjlTJaxXTpyVSq2H0Ib-XJkR64CPvk_sLlm7s2Y/s640/blogger-image--1981307352.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">And do it in something fabulous. Top from People Like Art.</div><br></div><div><br></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06513292621953483673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-216172288713419470.post-10966714070803290982015-03-14T14:42:00.001-07:002015-03-14T14:45:41.239-07:00What Losing Two Friends In Six Months Did To Me"Dr. Appt went well. All clear."<div>"Thank God."</div><div><br></div><div>These texts and calls have become commonplace in my life. My mom, a ten year breast cancer survivor will have to continue having these appointments for the rest of her life. Every year, I hold my breath and wait for the message to come through that she's in the clear...</div><div><br></div><div>The eleventh of March marked a month since I said goodbye to my friend Phil, and six months prior to that, we buried my friend/adopted mother figure Carla from the same disease. I currently have family members, friends, and their loved ones fighting with the same evil.</div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJth-p_P4O0hnmtqRmAnIC_e592-ye6gz495bqyvNmJTgewBl7ZEXXjYfGZsxdhQgAtFkfR0x9Ponc2_H7UUIb-DZ2PpxslPGWzXDe91dDk9Gk0cLPR1o9j4v88-WYETTiojXGpve5BkY/s640/blogger-image-1009760041.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJth-p_P4O0hnmtqRmAnIC_e592-ye6gz495bqyvNmJTgewBl7ZEXXjYfGZsxdhQgAtFkfR0x9Ponc2_H7UUIb-DZ2PpxslPGWzXDe91dDk9Gk0cLPR1o9j4v88-WYETTiojXGpve5BkY/s640/blogger-image-1009760041.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Mama Carla and her "Munchkin"</div><br></div><div><br></div><div>I think about a little over a month ago when I went to see Phil in the hospital. The boisterous laugh, the booming Australian accent that could carry across rooms, all of the life in him had already drained out. He was kept "comfortable" until his passing. I was at home when I heard the news...and I remember throwing my fists in the air and sobbing "Why did you take another one of my friends?!"</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd0XfKFLtmx5RmArltEOhafH0FiqDWnZ_uu2-tYY_CmZEL8eXAXeJHZKeRjd_4p5r1eEz-8lUBv9KD6kmfHP2Wwob0Bt-tAe7E6l84RL40tAodGpzPOXSILZMjM8ZRtZuwkeE0OzhyMoM/s640/blogger-image-258344814.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd0XfKFLtmx5RmArltEOhafH0FiqDWnZ_uu2-tYY_CmZEL8eXAXeJHZKeRjd_4p5r1eEz-8lUBv9KD6kmfHP2Wwob0Bt-tAe7E6l84RL40tAodGpzPOXSILZMjM8ZRtZuwkeE0OzhyMoM/s640/blogger-image-258344814.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">At the benefit for Phil. I played drums with some of our friends to raise money to cover his medical bills.</div><br></div><div><br></div><div>I know my story isn't that uncommon by today's standards. Nearly every single person in my life has been effected directly with this disease. But I know that my life has changed drastically over the last year alone because of it. </div><div><br></div><div> Three years ago, I started my extensive research on the modern medical industry, the food industry in this country, diet, nutrition, and exercise. This is an ongoing process, because there's always something new to learn about it. I learned that animal proteins feed cancer cells, and went ahead to make the choice to become vegan instead of a lacto-ovo vegetarian. I kicked my diet soda addiction. I attempt to be as perfect as possible in my dietary choices. It's forced me to meal plan around budget, nutritional value, and so much more. It was the wakeup call I needed. I learned that health starts with what your input into your body is. </div><div><br></div><div>I move. I move because I can. After seeing Phil on his deathbed, unable to do anything but sleep, I came home and did four yoga classes in a row because I was physically able to. If I have a body that is fully capable of moving, it is a slap in everyone's face who can't. It's a slap in my Creator's face to not use the instruments he has given me. I have witnessed "Use it or lose it" first hand.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuGIGCC6AL-t6EXYfikb155rMQeGeCx-v0WHabtPwYAMqYF8mD1Viog7YtZqnXtOU7mjneJhm60IeU6C8V_j0LW1zwEUiO4BbhMKJTQMe-6Pq7cs37AP80hdmDvTwlbUFSey2kzjnfZjc/s640/blogger-image--1951707707.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuGIGCC6AL-t6EXYfikb155rMQeGeCx-v0WHabtPwYAMqYF8mD1Viog7YtZqnXtOU7mjneJhm60IeU6C8V_j0LW1zwEUiO4BbhMKJTQMe-6Pq7cs37AP80hdmDvTwlbUFSey2kzjnfZjc/s640/blogger-image--1951707707.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I crow because I can. A year ago, I couldn't touch my toes. </div><br></div><div><br></div><div>I try my hardest to be present. I try to be in every moment as they are happening, experiencing the moments I will never get back instead of wishing for what tomorrow may hold. I breathe a little slower, chew my food a bit more, write in my journal to capture moments more...I try to put my phone down at home as much as possible (still working on that one) and swap that time out for snuggles with my dog or my partner. I try to wake up earlier to have a few moments to myself to breathe, to give thanks...thanks for waking me up again, thanks for getting me out of bed, thanks for the coffee I'm brewing. Thank you for this moment that I will never get back.</div><div><br></div><div>I've cut out booze. Watching your loved ones internal organs shut down before your very eyes will either do one of two things to you: drive you to drink, or encourage you to walk away from it cold turkey. <span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Thich Nhat Hanh has a book about being present, in which he says that anyone who is drinking alcohol or smoking cigarettes is not present, because they are looking for a distraction from now. If they were present in the moment on all levels, they would not put such toxins in their systems, knowing it will reak havoc on their body. This has stuck with me. The four vodka sodas I used to have a week are gone, and I feel so much better. But the best part is that I feel like not only am I respecting my body when I do so, but it gives me the energy to move, to function, and I'm not distracted and trying to escape. Being an introvert in an extroverted world is hard. Having a few drinks to loosen up in public situations was my way to not shut down. It was a crutch. But, without it, I am forced to be present. And that is actually a gift in itself!</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I try to do my friends proud. Carla especially (Mama Carla as I called her) called me her "Munchkin" and adopted me almost right away. She and her partner, Jim, gave me a key to their home, and quickly became surrogate parents. After Carla passed, people came out of the woodwork to talk about how every time Carla was with them that she would pull out her phone and tell everyone about her Munchkin in Nashville, and how proud she was of me. Her family members, hairdressers, and even waitresses at their favorite spots reached out to tell me after she passed that she would do this. I had no idea. I feel like now, it is my goal to live in such a way that she would be so proud of me, and is elbowing the other angels up there, saying "that's my munchkin!" </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX_Mg7BKHa2feRk5-VzfX5gUqVHbGAHqaSfGsgTitEJS69La_EBKKmoYbuuXjOJwjhS3xnkD7WTujjOGtQhKhJbrQ6fM67GFFE9M50BDHSn3mU8bkpLDE3i_oIZrmwGBucfD8Hyx-wIso/s640/blogger-image--493781500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX_Mg7BKHa2feRk5-VzfX5gUqVHbGAHqaSfGsgTitEJS69La_EBKKmoYbuuXjOJwjhS3xnkD7WTujjOGtQhKhJbrQ6fM67GFFE9M50BDHSn3mU8bkpLDE3i_oIZrmwGBucfD8Hyx-wIso/s640/blogger-image--493781500.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Jim, Carla, and I before seeing Ringo. </div><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I am living more authentically. Phil touched so many people's lives and left such an impression as a member of his community. Carla decided to uproot her life and move away to pursue her dreams after her children were grown. She stayed true to herself...up to the very end. I try to emulate this about her in my everyday life. Because of them, I know that you leave the earth a better place or a worse place because of you, so you might as well make it better.</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhub7kGbYusDJ7up9Yzf02dm_wNWteT3ntcQigNhsLc_9GyQ78oNxTB0wIDXmIzDAVzn951Umtt_RT5FiHviHQDO5EY5zRm1mOBYPc4i9qLqAlNNjOI5lrhOVhJAlZKiETO96FRkUVo3gc/s640/blogger-image--1224042214.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhub7kGbYusDJ7up9Yzf02dm_wNWteT3ntcQigNhsLc_9GyQ78oNxTB0wIDXmIzDAVzn951Umtt_RT5FiHviHQDO5EY5zRm1mOBYPc4i9qLqAlNNjOI5lrhOVhJAlZKiETO96FRkUVo3gc/s640/blogger-image--1224042214.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Phil and I definitely in the moment. Itchycoo Park's set on the Sunday from our last Abbey Road on the River...the last time I saw Carla alive. Phil had no idea he was sick. </div><br></span></div><div><br></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">I pray that one day the real cure...and prevention of this awful disease will be as common knowledge as what's going on in the world of the Kardashian's, but for now, it's not. But, what I have learned from losing two friends in six months is not only to take care of myself, to follow my dreams, and to eat my vegetables...it's that shit will always happen. That's inevitable. It's how we choose to deal with it that is the true mark that we will leave on the world...and I intend to make them proud.</span></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06513292621953483673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-216172288713419470.post-38420760211792595262014-12-31T13:01:00.001-08:002015-01-23T19:47:39.322-08:00No, Facebook. I'll review my own year, thanks.<div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><br></div>Well, readers. Here we are. New Year's Eve, 2014. Time for reflections, memories, and to figure out what we have learned. As I applied my makeup this morning to get ready for work, I looked back at myself in the mirror and thought: "Man, nowhere near where we were a year ago. And thank God." <div><br></div><div>This time last year, I was walking on eggshells, desperately trying to keep the facade of a life I had created going. I wanted to crawl under the covers and never come back out. I ended up at some industry party, and was in bed before ten pm, thinking of all of the stuff I was going to have to overcome this year. </div><div><br></div><div>And then January rolled around. An act of what can only be fate snapped me out of my haze of mediocrity. I had to do something about my life. And I had to do it fast. January 23,2014 was the day I took my freedom back. I walked away from my job that was slowly killing me, I ran away from a relationship that had taken two of my what would have been vivacious years away, one that was more fake than the ring I later found out was phony on my ring finger. January 28...the day I threw it out of the window of my car, and never looked back. <span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">My precious friend, Bud sent me down the street to get a cup of coffee while "he" collects his things from my home. After one latte, and the first side of Exile On Main Street, my home is safe again.<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOGhmF3YUK4MC6-z2kjRGHZAZNP9iP7vtHuxhsmsONlPjIcIAbBagoSsmq_ZneKep_xxxfREktwxvofPyA5TnaJxjZDRYs5uveO1fSUqEbd3lUT2_iBPoGUby21yOaZgdIqdgTUUcptis/s640/blogger-image-777661976.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOGhmF3YUK4MC6-z2kjRGHZAZNP9iP7vtHuxhsmsONlPjIcIAbBagoSsmq_ZneKep_xxxfREktwxvofPyA5TnaJxjZDRYs5uveO1fSUqEbd3lUT2_iBPoGUby21yOaZgdIqdgTUUcptis/s640/blogger-image-777661976.jpg"></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOGhmF3YUK4MC6-z2kjRGHZAZNP9iP7vtHuxhsmsONlPjIcIAbBagoSsmq_ZneKep_xxxfREktwxvofPyA5TnaJxjZDRYs5uveO1fSUqEbd3lUT2_iBPoGUby21yOaZgdIqdgTUUcptis/s640/blogger-image-777661976.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-DtFkwbdT-AnOLI3SKwCkOMtG7fJtR6IlSGNTflz0DRxpBOVtXtc0peFRj3PXC3ckDudzl37qvgt6GZm-h5yDLk5K_25ezs4WQB8FIJqjlzyNWVJVZv7P_pYPplkO-CoyYpW06zXxJdY/s640/blogger-image-361874724.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-DtFkwbdT-AnOLI3SKwCkOMtG7fJtR6IlSGNTflz0DRxpBOVtXtc0peFRj3PXC3ckDudzl37qvgt6GZm-h5yDLk5K_25ezs4WQB8FIJqjlzyNWVJVZv7P_pYPplkO-CoyYpW06zXxJdY/s640/blogger-image-361874724.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Celebrating the day I got my freedom back.</div></div></span></div><div><br></div><div>February rolled around and found me in Louisville with my Beatle family. I drank, I danced, I remembered that girl that was inside of me...the one whose sparkle I had dulled because it was blinding people who wanted me to burn out. I remember a moment where I sat back with one of my adopted mother figures, Carla, and recounted my last few months. She told me she was proud of me, and that this would be my year. A week later, my friend Heather and I took a road trip to Chicago...because we could. Having newfound freedom after being under a thumb for two long years was a breath of fresh (yet icy) air. We met up with old friends and spent a much needed weekend just being us. The weight lifted off of me on the way home with each wedding vendor I called to cancel. </div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6pNxGn7VyjvACN7su9KXlOq4JQaibx128Mj4Ra9UJAwyw-w_kzpKEeDVuOZiZmyjPsQFuTVA2ZM_WW0FbRhUkpbioVNZ-3caJhIarPxr3Z-SgU9s-aE-1QfvXWFnXch62AJGuKIzB168/s640/blogger-image-1368672956.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6pNxGn7VyjvACN7su9KXlOq4JQaibx128Mj4Ra9UJAwyw-w_kzpKEeDVuOZiZmyjPsQFuTVA2ZM_WW0FbRhUkpbioVNZ-3caJhIarPxr3Z-SgU9s-aE-1QfvXWFnXch62AJGuKIzB168/s640/blogger-image-1368672956.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">My first photo shoot as a free woman. My photographer friend who shot this was trying to get the right shot..."You belong to no one." He said...right before he snapped this. I've never felt so powerful in my life.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9lmr2889u1QckrPka6Xa5PWYojCDAg4jC2ncmDC86sxpVZKIEtcH14TvJBvMuJ7WDdGS0y4dGWy8Fd3H_vQU2i7ZZR57KHggC8r38E4HqHrMYbRASrPPkbi0L6Ewa-6Ql5ZPj36dd8k4/s640/blogger-image-1986120024.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9lmr2889u1QckrPka6Xa5PWYojCDAg4jC2ncmDC86sxpVZKIEtcH14TvJBvMuJ7WDdGS0y4dGWy8Fd3H_vQU2i7ZZR57KHggC8r38E4HqHrMYbRASrPPkbi0L6Ewa-6Ql5ZPj36dd8k4/s640/blogger-image-1986120024.jpg"></a></div>On stage with my band family.</div><br></div><div>March...three weeks from the date that I had sat with Carla to discuss how this would be "my year" and I get the message. Carla is sick. Very sick. I spend the next two in various states of being drunk. Late March rolls around and finds me backstage at the Ryman to see Crosby, Stills, and Nash...due to having to miss them the previous year because of a jealous partner who didn't like me getting any attention. What did I wear? I wear what was supposed to be my wedding dress. Seriously. I catch the eye of a few people backstage for wearing such an unusual dress, start talking about music, get to meet everyone, and the next thing you know, I'm being invited to come to LA with them. </div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgToQn7oom-h3VqkhcbK7ass0-0ZDMXOq_7i9_eROF1cY6gA6RYnFu9_RMN0mpRJpFJO1b2FareIYd0fmA3kNdzIvrUSKOXA9hS6PVXEYrihExj9Wwxy5NKx7Q-kvQhA7RaBmPDlR-h-7g/s640/blogger-image--2088923023.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgToQn7oom-h3VqkhcbK7ass0-0ZDMXOq_7i9_eROF1cY6gA6RYnFu9_RMN0mpRJpFJO1b2FareIYd0fmA3kNdzIvrUSKOXA9hS6PVXEYrihExj9Wwxy5NKx7Q-kvQhA7RaBmPDlR-h-7g/s640/blogger-image--2088923023.jpg"></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi688hs7vKh_uH0TMU4kX2XB5IPxgeWqVRsH6kZLte4yeo0syxIpUwquzjQQULuKTfv_WuiAfBmmsBXZDV4Mq0vdXkHfYAF8-ErODQCVMp4JZK9gcMVXEsb91ioP5CCIXfC3HCb592WHHA/s640/blogger-image--1326374103.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi688hs7vKh_uH0TMU4kX2XB5IPxgeWqVRsH6kZLte4yeo0syxIpUwquzjQQULuKTfv_WuiAfBmmsBXZDV4Mq0vdXkHfYAF8-ErODQCVMp4JZK9gcMVXEsb91ioP5CCIXfC3HCb592WHHA/s640/blogger-image--1326374103.jpg"></a></div>The dress that got me halfway across the country.</div></div><br></div><div><br></div><div>April found me on a rooftop in Los Angeles, sipping vodka and listening to legends play. I clutch the backstage pass around my neck and wonder how this happened. My feet touched the sand on Venice Beach and I wanted to cry. People whose music I've admired for years are buying me dinner and drinks...people who made me feel like I was never alone. I fly home and spend what was supposed to be my wedding day in a Honky Tonk listening to my friends play "I'll Feel A Whole Lot Better" and how right they were. </div><div>A week after, I was at a show, singing along to Humble Pie songs when a guy with crazy hair and a terrible mustache catches my eye. He knows all of the words...just like me. Stop looking. Ignore it. I went home to log into Facebook, and mustache boy is in the corner on my "People You May Know" with his photo and his name---Nathan Cox... and the next thing you know, "I'm sitting across from him at a coffee shop, laughing and chattering on about nothing, and everything. We spoke of books, and records, and films, our friends, and how I was going to see my friend, Carla the next day to go take care of her after her surgery. Nathan and I spoke for six hours that night. And we haven't shut up since. </div><div><br></div><div>I go back to Louisville to see Carla and her partner, Jim...my adopted parents. Carla has just had surgery, and is attached to machines. She still wants me to notice her new sparkly nails, and is more interested in my life, and about the date I just went on. We binge watched "Orange Is The New Black", I vacuumed the house, and slept on a pallet of pillows and blankets at the foot of their bed...just like a true kid coming to visit Mom and Dad would.</div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4IcyEJOLm3dhoZ7kGw_dySIBucyx5m_TKLCsxw8OvpKq5Oe30NLGgJPHCGuIvgWQDTuhHOqvvooBK3_zX6XyinSB3UpXVHURJMPK6MEidG_yrNfbsHo0uA7BGZqdNWYj3Kftiysx1nCI/s640/blogger-image-643968355.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4IcyEJOLm3dhoZ7kGw_dySIBucyx5m_TKLCsxw8OvpKq5Oe30NLGgJPHCGuIvgWQDTuhHOqvvooBK3_zX6XyinSB3UpXVHURJMPK6MEidG_yrNfbsHo0uA7BGZqdNWYj3Kftiysx1nCI/s640/blogger-image-643968355.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div>May was spent trying to find out what was wrong with my newfound knight in shining Levi's...and with him telling me that I was indeed loveable, worthy, and that he wasn't going to go anywhere. I will never be able to repay him for his patience. Once again, I ended up in Louisville for Abbey Road on the River, where my entire family that had adopted me celebrated my freedom. New and old friends welcomed me with open arms, and took care of me when I couldn't take care of myself. I went to visit Carla in the hospital. She was the color of a carrot, and stuck in bed, but she still wanted me to notice her sparkly slippers, and how she had blinged her own IV bag. That was the last time I saw her alive.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjASzplvu8gWycmw1i-BZbRoB73gmVDGn9MdqRr5B7qPzUB4hESy7skZluy_2InZHS72vGQIPn2eHycCDrmi34fRvVtbt-ai_0oQ5fAeIYu_ROGqCupEwvPkkX1SafM07zJlwt1_uXvdYc/s640/blogger-image-1522975946.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjASzplvu8gWycmw1i-BZbRoB73gmVDGn9MdqRr5B7qPzUB4hESy7skZluy_2InZHS72vGQIPn2eHycCDrmi34fRvVtbt-ai_0oQ5fAeIYu_ROGqCupEwvPkkX1SafM07zJlwt1_uXvdYc/s640/blogger-image-1522975946.jpg"></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjASzplvu8gWycmw1i-BZbRoB73gmVDGn9MdqRr5B7qPzUB4hESy7skZluy_2InZHS72vGQIPn2eHycCDrmi34fRvVtbt-ai_0oQ5fAeIYu_ROGqCupEwvPkkX1SafM07zJlwt1_uXvdYc/s640/blogger-image-1522975946.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEeFfHquP7JYkjS1usaKUIRURBiROBIVAPINgki-dc48SOQjfS3NfLTkAnqyUMV_NUOJ0F2Sstx7Oq2cap3zsZ0ujnm1bhC24Zb8JFVjyhTPEA_vfcgxJZXHDANX30YE4YG1iiRIjzT7c/s640/blogger-image-1830508823.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEeFfHquP7JYkjS1usaKUIRURBiROBIVAPINgki-dc48SOQjfS3NfLTkAnqyUMV_NUOJ0F2Sstx7Oq2cap3zsZ0ujnm1bhC24Zb8JFVjyhTPEA_vfcgxJZXHDANX30YE4YG1iiRIjzT7c/s640/blogger-image-1830508823.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9m942KqFCCBp2Q_o4Zpwx8-j24F-DCWIKDpFF9rcx6XaoyKD3K8J19SZcOXwQdF4HEE7_sFtCWOpM5bAbZJOFo8UPnYPukh-w6RIZa7EYkTCtsawtmjKdOtWRs9GbbS_t0Vqv-f1ewJo/s640/blogger-image--1263506035.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9m942KqFCCBp2Q_o4Zpwx8-j24F-DCWIKDpFF9rcx6XaoyKD3K8J19SZcOXwQdF4HEE7_sFtCWOpM5bAbZJOFo8UPnYPukh-w6RIZa7EYkTCtsawtmjKdOtWRs9GbbS_t0Vqv-f1ewJo/s640/blogger-image--1263506035.jpg"></a></div><br></div></div><br></div><div><br></div><div>June. </div><div>I come back from my music festival to move someone in to the other bedroom of my home. </div><div><br></div><div> Things are beginning to look up, when my car gets broken into, and I have to stop the robbery...and then someone I thought was a friend, took every single piece of furniture I had, appliances, and clothes, and left me with a house that looked like a tornado went through it. This leads me to Craigslist in search of a free couch...I found my Arrow instead. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiawO1rR3Vcd1JXFs1WkFfA1A7A2Ub-AQJXNq7lP2wUDa0NbyGUloER6Np0uxa0TmQ82Xnsz0uYyfyd0epINaswATsSqi4QVqNE03Jsuxx56x-pbxeUu-3jQokPf32KTW0_BZcEBELiUak/s640/blogger-image--761551076.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiawO1rR3Vcd1JXFs1WkFfA1A7A2Ub-AQJXNq7lP2wUDa0NbyGUloER6Np0uxa0TmQ82Xnsz0uYyfyd0epINaswATsSqi4QVqNE03Jsuxx56x-pbxeUu-3jQokPf32KTW0_BZcEBELiUak/s640/blogger-image--761551076.jpg"></a></div></div><div>Our first day together. Me and my Arrow.</div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div>The friend who takes my furniture away just so happens to be the person who has the lease on my house. The house is tainted, and I am forced to cut my losses and run. I spend the next few nights on my friend Gary's couch...and then with Nathan who held me when I cried so hard I shook. I felt like I was drowning. He held me in his arms and said "Let me take care of you..." a statement no one has ever said to me before. It was always me taking care of others...And right after that, I get the news...</div><div><br></div><div>I <span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">met adopted family member Grace in the middle of nowhere, Kentucky for Carla's funeral. The night before I went to say goodbye, I watched the last episode of "Orange Is The New Black" since she would never be able to finish it...and painted a layer of glitter on my nails, because that's what she would have wanted. I said my final goodbye to the woman who took me on as a daughter in her heart, and bragged about me like I was hers...her "munchkin" she called me. And two weeks later, I was back in Louisville, behind a drum kit after a huge break from playing, jamming with our friends...for Carla. Giving her the goodbye that she would have wanted. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia1xqBjPlJojzUMbPGKIQbjxtuQ0u5BP3P-LRoNA_VW9GaWjDmTQNQJAU3OHoy0bjqrvufa5nbrtJsvg5WhfhkE3mJN0pNF5zwp22AkkmEMDox4SYlGsIeicUmE51VohJVNZI6ZZTGewk/s640/blogger-image--1422711899.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia1xqBjPlJojzUMbPGKIQbjxtuQ0u5BP3P-LRoNA_VW9GaWjDmTQNQJAU3OHoy0bjqrvufa5nbrtJsvg5WhfhkE3mJN0pNF5zwp22AkkmEMDox4SYlGsIeicUmE51VohJVNZI6ZZTGewk/s640/blogger-image--1422711899.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ3I_HduvOSLEjHJT2NMSB13t7HZMq_1ycFAHmwLifT5SUthb-4ZoAxqppc32eT-i7irmHipiON2I1thyphenhyphen-_4wftODIbialcGmzeLWC30sIwKkxYPdh0ERl_0cUNbNd2kC9fu3KEYr7hdY/s640/blogger-image-461220202.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ3I_HduvOSLEjHJT2NMSB13t7HZMq_1ycFAHmwLifT5SUthb-4ZoAxqppc32eT-i7irmHipiON2I1thyphenhyphen-_4wftODIbialcGmzeLWC30sIwKkxYPdh0ERl_0cUNbNd2kC9fu3KEYr7hdY/s640/blogger-image-461220202.jpg"></a></div>Carla's shoes were representing that night. </div><br></span></div><div><br></div><div>July, another rock n roll family member had to have surgery, and needed help, and company. So, I headed to New Jersey to see Joe through a knee replacement. We spend a lot of time discussing our purpose in life, and he tells me to answer my calling when it comes. I<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> ended up seeing both coasts of the country within three months because of my friend needing a new knee. </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">I come home, and am scattered. What am I doing? Why aren't I as fulfilled as I want to be? I took my leap of faith, and no net had appeared. I had written out what I desired out of a job. Why hadn't I been and to manifest it yet?? Something inside of me tells me to go once again on Craigslist and look in the job section...</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTWR3H0621i2A6ZYW24xk7O7Yn-RQ2xJ7iUdL9RVwwrJ3aP8QIju1ieBDrxyLkInnUEE7mh1fxAbJ5wcq4Z-TxDkjb9kXNCWphUrxHhreglf7HZtDMmryPwesMFuPXDVg79hFuCdwujJA/s640/blogger-image-1435960121.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTWR3H0621i2A6ZYW24xk7O7Yn-RQ2xJ7iUdL9RVwwrJ3aP8QIju1ieBDrxyLkInnUEE7mh1fxAbJ5wcq4Z-TxDkjb9kXNCWphUrxHhreglf7HZtDMmryPwesMFuPXDVg79hFuCdwujJA/s640/blogger-image-1435960121.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiupKYStkAWoBHC7nvS4m5_ph9KVrhjrydBI2ll8tKvRwA0najZYGneYVJ6B5FeW1rYFj8JMAW_qDcelPiMDvUe4l1kIqyE1BMqe3i-9tAExn1BkBNlVMcZsqNZb5uV6g_Ram9nw-C2270/s640/blogger-image--257206576.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiupKYStkAWoBHC7nvS4m5_ph9KVrhjrydBI2ll8tKvRwA0najZYGneYVJ6B5FeW1rYFj8JMAW_qDcelPiMDvUe4l1kIqyE1BMqe3i-9tAExn1BkBNlVMcZsqNZb5uV6g_Ram9nw-C2270/s640/blogger-image--257206576.jpg"></a></div>Doing wardrobe for Beck and hanging with Jason Falkner and Roger Manning Jr from Jellyfish.</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">August 1 was my first day at my dream job. It met all of the requirements on my checklist. Things begin to turn around. I am excited to wake up. I begin to get on a regular sleep, exercise, and diet routine. I am surrounded by creative and driven women that are beautiful inside and out. I finally feel like I know why everything else I ever tried for didn't work. I am overwhelmed with gratitude.</span></div><div><br></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr6u8YOOROIhpzSK-lDMnYBwJMB-SOc-iMTj2JOCGhKZVMCOgFDWqYBD13nQzZgB4l8nc63WaW6i5HmGeIXWfHc832tltrx5o2nWSftacJn0T_bMGtC9nHsd2lEYXjeP9Y98ZNs5BO1X8/s640/blogger-image-1182471986.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr6u8YOOROIhpzSK-lDMnYBwJMB-SOc-iMTj2JOCGhKZVMCOgFDWqYBD13nQzZgB4l8nc63WaW6i5HmGeIXWfHc832tltrx5o2nWSftacJn0T_bMGtC9nHsd2lEYXjeP9Y98ZNs5BO1X8/s640/blogger-image-1182471986.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzDkDJC3GIfD2r1XKozhwIQUiY7qCmmPCT5OakQ9aI3XOGPSbsbAgIR5q2d1GQ-2JRyHmCzVoJRORebQbrRzez6OHPaZeIcV2d25-trQ3XxqM97PO3Om31Xc9JnXOCiz1OSTs2Clmhn-I/s640/blogger-image--2047291666.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzDkDJC3GIfD2r1XKozhwIQUiY7qCmmPCT5OakQ9aI3XOGPSbsbAgIR5q2d1GQ-2JRyHmCzVoJRORebQbrRzez6OHPaZeIcV2d25-trQ3XxqM97PO3Om31Xc9JnXOCiz1OSTs2Clmhn-I/s640/blogger-image--2047291666.jpg"></a></div>Laura, Owner of Tiffany's Boutique herself...Miss Tiffany, and Missus Manager (moi!) </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">September, I turned 23 and breathed a sigh of relief that I managed to survive. I am reminded of my purpose, and am surrounded by people who love me. It was the first birthday since nine years old that didn't end in tears. It also is the month that I filmed with my boss, and my perfect little shop, an episode of Oprah. Seriously. Nine months prior, I was considering sleeping until I turned fifty, and now, Oprah's crew was clipping a microphone on me. Talk about a 180!</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWqHzjfwlnBxvDAEJH0sHJd5WrsjQM7ik0Bu4fv1ZiLkbf0MFupigSdRZCOq-9FDTV27qlFSdjuAdhJ79uivnT1s-VRz8yejYoXU0Xxs34LSYVVzswLM16k7QEzLECXdtwrQk8agpd2tM/s640/blogger-image-1897514592.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWqHzjfwlnBxvDAEJH0sHJd5WrsjQM7ik0Bu4fv1ZiLkbf0MFupigSdRZCOq-9FDTV27qlFSdjuAdhJ79uivnT1s-VRz8yejYoXU0Xxs34LSYVVzswLM16k7QEzLECXdtwrQk8agpd2tM/s640/blogger-image-1897514592.jpg"></a></div><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">October, I managed to end up in a hotel with some of my closest friends/chosen family with Denny Laine from The Moody Blues and Wings. We spend a weekend listening to ridiculously talented people play the greatest music ever, and stay up to watch the sunrise. I see Paul Mccartney in concert, and end up backstage. I sit back and say "Thank You" under my breath at least a dozen times. Thank you for my crazy little life.<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1_VDZ8QmRkZlvmu0B20E40dGXN2DswLofqMlkf1ueOngAyslx3sywwRBAIJ22g5HU8O7dpTT9KAM9Ijr56UkDfMLY1aUN-kMWhWUIV_VQRd7hAm6vw-p3cXwwBBAS19RVTYhzXefSLJk/s640/blogger-image--791617191.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1_VDZ8QmRkZlvmu0B20E40dGXN2DswLofqMlkf1ueOngAyslx3sywwRBAIJ22g5HU8O7dpTT9KAM9Ijr56UkDfMLY1aUN-kMWhWUIV_VQRd7hAm6vw-p3cXwwBBAS19RVTYhzXefSLJk/s640/blogger-image--791617191.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlGiwfhoay-ZIbEOxxzwWWk0z3dhW8RBQB2fGuSLS_wHjpajNIm8rMEXPyaopsn9TNh1suoJOuugI-kpPXL7X1tjHF9jJwEvC1FmXaCeOLLo2JncOiCS6XJSDSOVlT4x4pwlW3h459XOE/s640/blogger-image-95701244.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlGiwfhoay-ZIbEOxxzwWWk0z3dhW8RBQB2fGuSLS_wHjpajNIm8rMEXPyaopsn9TNh1suoJOuugI-kpPXL7X1tjHF9jJwEvC1FmXaCeOLLo2JncOiCS6XJSDSOVlT4x4pwlW3h459XOE/s640/blogger-image-95701244.jpg"></a></div>With Denny, and then Brian backstage.</div></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">November brings the first Thanksgiving that didn't bring on an anxiety attack since I was ten. Nathan's mom made a vegan thanksgiving feast, and I felt truly loved, and wanted by a family that wasn't one I had made for the first time. It was beautiful. I cried, but only out of gratitude and happiness.</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi21bSTVaGcH3jP81uDNKYMrL6PP49YrvnjeaFHNKBVR9UhNmwWbTo4dTLaVx-mdqxuWYCgrUXG1TE8ryMDJYQ5J70CdodCunMADdgTnPwFNZkDmHk1KgQ0gQHi2_GpmAqZoY8P1jz8K68/s640/blogger-image--131589687.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi21bSTVaGcH3jP81uDNKYMrL6PP49YrvnjeaFHNKBVR9UhNmwWbTo4dTLaVx-mdqxuWYCgrUXG1TE8ryMDJYQ5J70CdodCunMADdgTnPwFNZkDmHk1KgQ0gQHi2_GpmAqZoY8P1jz8K68/s640/blogger-image--131589687.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2Ocy97wvW34OKJgIy_TITMCceKPOlX-O1tCQ10EAtzrbJzS7vcUEHelP8utChERZveqY-AzBgTNczrlcDU5RXC0IN3xQ9GfBwHj4pGOo28W-E7_a2GkZx7joFLWQqF3JtT7uhBEheh-8/s640/blogger-image--2134549560.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2Ocy97wvW34OKJgIy_TITMCceKPOlX-O1tCQ10EAtzrbJzS7vcUEHelP8utChERZveqY-AzBgTNczrlcDU5RXC0IN3xQ9GfBwHj4pGOo28W-E7_a2GkZx7joFLWQqF3JtT7uhBEheh-8/s640/blogger-image--2134549560.jpg"></a></div><br></div>Our first family Thanksgiving</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">And here we are, December. I'm in nowhere near the same place I was in this time last year. I wake up in a home that's filled with love, instead of one where I sleep on the couch, and mutter under my breath. I wake up with the sweetest little dog under my legs, and the formerly mustached Mr. Cox next to me, who manages to still look cute that early, and who every morning,without fail, rolls over, puts his arm around me, kisses me on the cheek, and says "Good morning, gorgeous. I love you." The man who saved me, and the dog who rescued me snuggle me into a love sandwich. Every. Single. Day. I get up at an hour in which I used to just now be getting to bed. I actually eat breakfast instead of drinking two pots of coffee alone. I do my makeup in a bathroom that is always crowded with two people attempting to get ready to start their day, but I will take that over the cold and damp bathroom that I used to hide in to avoid the happenings in my old house. I get to go to the most fun, rewarding, and creatively inspiring environment for me in which I get to help women who felt like I did in January feel like they are good enough, pretty enough...I get to go to my glorious yoga house and let my body know how much I appreciate it in rooms full of like minded individuals. </span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I now have fantastic friends at the push of a button that could not be more perfect. (New friends, Daisy and Amanda!! How did I ever live without you??) </span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">I get to go home, and live my life. How incredibly lucky I am! </span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs99xg3_kaZXgiqY6zgMVztsV2soGIip5c65f9pdCueJEvqe8F2siGyXGusVfykOsyILjHnxIalGjkqLh1eeFNWV6i0tYplk68kb1zlf97nGQsu-_ctqX_BkcyvfZnWXAO3weTxMvGnU0/s640/blogger-image-712477329.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs99xg3_kaZXgiqY6zgMVztsV2soGIip5c65f9pdCueJEvqe8F2siGyXGusVfykOsyILjHnxIalGjkqLh1eeFNWV6i0tYplk68kb1zlf97nGQsu-_ctqX_BkcyvfZnWXAO3weTxMvGnU0/s640/blogger-image-712477329.jpg"></a></div>Wardrobe for Brian Setzer. After three weeks of Vince Gill! </div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbQH_OwatfK0vi6AURlm0WloQYh3Sd3Nn7D84Afe7cPHw3jhbGIdwHIu10Ht0r7CawrR8VYd2locL4PQ2d9YJi9l-QGtBnmABzaTeKIbiytJzsHVE-n3qjcrLkQaTzrTilOAISfQEpFew/s640/blogger-image--1601688578.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbQH_OwatfK0vi6AURlm0WloQYh3Sd3Nn7D84Afe7cPHw3jhbGIdwHIu10Ht0r7CawrR8VYd2locL4PQ2d9YJi9l-QGtBnmABzaTeKIbiytJzsHVE-n3qjcrLkQaTzrTilOAISfQEpFew/s640/blogger-image--1601688578.jpg"></a></div>Our first Christmas </div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">My life is not at all like I had imagined it would be in 2014. It's so so much more better than I ever could have dreamed. I am constantly reminded of how everything happens for a reason, and that I am never wrong in following my gut. I know now, more than ever, that a life filled with gratitude will do more for you than one filled with resentment. Oprah has this thing she writes in every issue of her magazine..."What I Know For Sure" and what I know for sure is that 2014 was easily the most difficult year so far that I have experienced. I also know that these experiences were lessons, and I can't be thankful enough for all of those lessons. And if I had to do it all over again? I would. Just to end up here. I would gladly go through hell and high water to get to where I am now. 2014, thank you for your challenges, your obstacles, your struggle you threw at me.</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">Because in return, I also got your blessings, your memories I will cherish for life, and the knowledge that I was stronger than I ever thought imaginable.</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">That is truly what I thank you for.</span></div><div><br></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">I would like to dedicate my 2015 to Mama Carla, who lived her life unapologetically as herself. She never worried what anyone else thought, and never met a stranger. This year, my resolution is to live my life more like her, and to always try and make her proud of the woman I have become. Because I know she still watches.</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkwl-ioOC9QsyXCF0I7eWk7rKtTVdf8ojcHHMI3YcbO8fYy1g72ArieX94IX09yN24BMdX4R1XKg7FgsUr9qYnM_tK40mHcVKWt1r5dQOU6jW12koEUXEtbQvZw99GYF1URq2VOwaLlN8/s640/blogger-image--1621862819.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkwl-ioOC9QsyXCF0I7eWk7rKtTVdf8ojcHHMI3YcbO8fYy1g72ArieX94IX09yN24BMdX4R1XKg7FgsUr9qYnM_tK40mHcVKWt1r5dQOU6jW12koEUXEtbQvZw99GYF1URq2VOwaLlN8/s640/blogger-image--1621862819.jpg"></a></div><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">Bring it on, 2015. I'm ready.</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><br></div><br></span></div><div><br></div><div><br></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06513292621953483673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-216172288713419470.post-75068928265856874582014-11-16T10:15:00.000-08:002014-11-16T10:23:25.692-08:00Stop Being PoorI'm rich, readers. No, really. And I'm here to give you one piece of advice on how you can find your riches. Are you ready? Here it is:<br>
<br>
Stop. Being. Poor.<br>
<br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_J-1KrYs4Dk4hNoTw3E2TSa2_hB_cyVUtGehfxEYQd6J_EM1hyphenhyphen4bJjQJOLzxHXGdKXbZgW2DX5mbjZ2oDEE6PThzoUrr6HMP3cgoMzqhnwSp90ckjTxV1DZjZXdowgUfDPTpRounIsis/s640/blogger-image-1854657769.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_J-1KrYs4Dk4hNoTw3E2TSa2_hB_cyVUtGehfxEYQd6J_EM1hyphenhyphen4bJjQJOLzxHXGdKXbZgW2DX5mbjZ2oDEE6PThzoUrr6HMP3cgoMzqhnwSp90ckjTxV1DZjZXdowgUfDPTpRounIsis/s640/blogger-image-1854657769.jpg"></a></div><br>
You read correctly. Stop being poor. Guess what? If you're reading this, you're rich! If you're sitting under a roof with heat, wifi, and some sort of electronic device at your fingertips, you are already there. Did you eat today? You're loaded!<br>
<br>
I think where we really get it wrong is we use the term "poor" incorrectly. Technically, according to America's standards, I live below poverty level. However, by America's standard BMI scale, I am underweight, yet a "plus size" in their modeling industry...so where has technicality gotten me? Nowhere.<br>
<br>
I woke up in a warm bed in a home with heat, with food in the fridge, and between four walls where love lives. I was able to get dressed in nice clothes, eat a healthy breakfast, and even have the luxury of watching Netflix with the world's greatest dog curled up next to me. I drove to a job that I love in a car that runs. I had ears to hear my favorite songs on the radio. I had my health! If anything, I am rich.<br>
<br>
<br>
As the Fab Four once said "money can't buy me love." and gosh darn it, those boys were right. There are a lot of other things it can't buy--health being one of them. I know several people suffering with life altering diagnosises right now. If they could buy their way out of them, they would. The fact that I woke up at all...was able to go do this in my yoga class the other day, and have a fully healthy and functioning body? That makes me royalty, practically!<br>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK0cXhvlvwjUgaHk2sMJ05VpZYX5ueeXiBye9HIxx5B-GsSabTqjRMvdRBfN8mWmGDUTsoUxQJ3MBLFUwZ4NZrWHB_vW6HoA5KPcqhHQ2MPzYKbkty1Jvij-yBeKiALwFjXrvXQ95bUBg/s640/blogger-image--527711700.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK0cXhvlvwjUgaHk2sMJ05VpZYX5ueeXiBye9HIxx5B-GsSabTqjRMvdRBfN8mWmGDUTsoUxQJ3MBLFUwZ4NZrWHB_vW6HoA5KPcqhHQ2MPzYKbkty1Jvij-yBeKiALwFjXrvXQ95bUBg/s640/blogger-image--527711700.jpg"></a></div><br>
I hear a lot of people around me say they can't do things because they are "poor" Most are employed, have some source of income, have never been hungry a day in their lives, drive cars (even a subpar one is a luxury to most places in the world) and yet they still complain. They don't know what poor is.<br>
<br>
Am I perfect? No. Do I get fed up with not wanting to be in the exact financial position I want to be in? Of course. However, I do know where a wealthy attitude gets you. You know those Facebook challenges for the month of November? The Gratitude list is a challenge in which that person posts three things they are grateful for each day, and why they are thankful for them. I know the laws of the universe, I know that you get back what you put out. However, when you aren't forced to focus on all of the beautiful things in your life, it's really east to get caught up in what you don't have. We live in a society that thrives on comparison and dying to fit in...I don't have the designer bag I want, my house isn't as big as my neighbor's, she's thinner than I am, they make more money. These things are what prevent us from moving forward and growing. Comparison is the thief of joy. Poverty mindset only furthers poverty lifestyle. So, I decided to be rich.<div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZnvwSrZglxfL3zn75EuTb8gjiE3QbEuuP6X67F8Gu1fbbBVeO_3QiDrQqqXr7VL0LI22UHTt_4xauhyphenhyphenFicYqY0y__4983E0kxs-RpLI7_ckPpETM9r2ZhFdzC7gh22m0j-4UyDw3jgqE/s640/blogger-image-2037300495.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZnvwSrZglxfL3zn75EuTb8gjiE3QbEuuP6X67F8Gu1fbbBVeO_3QiDrQqqXr7VL0LI22UHTt_4xauhyphenhyphenFicYqY0y__4983E0kxs-RpLI7_ckPpETM9r2ZhFdzC7gh22m0j-4UyDw3jgqE/s640/blogger-image-2037300495.jpg"></a></div><br>
<br>
The second I started to focus on my abundance I already had instead of lack, my phone started to blow up. I have been booking jobs more now than I have ever in the last six months. I've had experiences that people who live in poverty certianly don't get to have. When I decided I was rich, and going to live my life as a wealthy individual, the universe has lined up in accordance and shown me just that.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEhJQwiD-iKJb9lXfTI-SkkDWB_uTRw6al-93GsEFMlJqPWHGqRPRLwmS2CuLJmvEMu5_xMUnUsb2egL3FXSondwvRjfTa2FsX8joChvpeM6rzgr1nhY1SlJknIslnlqIWi0jBKornOfM/s640/blogger-image-816713893.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEhJQwiD-iKJb9lXfTI-SkkDWB_uTRw6al-93GsEFMlJqPWHGqRPRLwmS2CuLJmvEMu5_xMUnUsb2egL3FXSondwvRjfTa2FsX8joChvpeM6rzgr1nhY1SlJknIslnlqIWi0jBKornOfM/s640/blogger-image-816713893.jpg"></a></div><br>
<br>
I wish that people realized more that you choose your thoughts. Even in my deepest, darkest, don't want to get out of bed depression, I knew it. I knew that I was only going to perpetuate my life of average. I was only going to stay on subpar health, in mediocre relationships with others and myself, and would always be struggling. And then one day, I found my journal from when I was eighteen. In my scribbled handwriting, I had written every detail of my life...what sort of house I wanted to be in, what sort of relationship I wanted, what kind of job I required in order to feel fulfilled, what I wanted to look like...down to my jean size, and as I got to the part about wanting a little white dog, I looked over at my precious Arrow, and realized that I had it all. So what was I complaining about? I started a new page in my latest journal and wrote a continuation of that entry.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSWDr5CnedJol7BxvzGvYCFPsSohBhjgRvugI9wNrCJ9XyZjF78yh3YaMrY5d_hgmXNkOgR_ilxTY9xGNAeyLZNxjybRRz_6KtWWTcKJTsoyF2lv-mR1x_N40Wz7mnDLDv75l6hdTo4XI/s640/blogger-image-1567938796.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSWDr5CnedJol7BxvzGvYCFPsSohBhjgRvugI9wNrCJ9XyZjF78yh3YaMrY5d_hgmXNkOgR_ilxTY9xGNAeyLZNxjybRRz_6KtWWTcKJTsoyF2lv-mR1x_N40Wz7mnDLDv75l6hdTo4XI/s640/blogger-image-1567938796.jpg"></a></div><br>
<br>
I plan on continuing my life remembering every day that there is always something to be grateful for...that even if the bank account is in the negative, there is always more on it's way. Even if I'm eating at home every night, at least I'm eating. Even though I would like new clothes, the ones I have now are beautiful. Even if I don't have everything I want right now, I am still richer than most people in the world.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><br></div><br></div><br>
<br>
So, readers. I'm telling you now.<br>
<br>
Stop being poor.<br>
<br>
<br></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06513292621953483673noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-216172288713419470.post-60105704225476034022014-10-01T22:04:00.001-07:002014-10-01T22:08:18.857-07:00False Humility, War Paint, Bellies, Nude Selfies, and More: My Self Acceptance Journey (So Far) <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
Hey, readers.<br />
<br />
I had another blog in mind...one that was written almost in its entirety when I decided to scrap it completely and share what was on my mind. After all, my bedtime tea told me to...<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHqeVt8eYDXJVaIyUVqNgQoWFpjh_CRmJ0i0__cmrp2V6q25mUeFTALN-Jg-A531A20M8gywgONjjN4RahqQrjaF_XXDPSTZN4FAkelkH3rti8VFfY_PFldRvZ49R4hQ9YJsTjoJPAy6U/s1600/photo-48.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHqeVt8eYDXJVaIyUVqNgQoWFpjh_CRmJ0i0__cmrp2V6q25mUeFTALN-Jg-A531A20M8gywgONjjN4RahqQrjaF_XXDPSTZN4FAkelkH3rti8VFfY_PFldRvZ49R4hQ9YJsTjoJPAy6U/s1600/photo-48.JPG" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
As a few of you may know, I have joined a Body-Positive yoga studio here in Nashville called Curvy Yoga. Being relatively new to my practice, I was relieved to be in an environment with women who all wanted to get in touch with, and appreciate our bodies. This is a completely foreign concept to me.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzTmLGMgf4sNu2v4_8NgCiG02C-0xYCZL0Uz_MOlmLiKDXGP6ZeInLy5EPVzoEhrhvHZA1iiCmEXozH9cmGmZEuaWn5F18VrQpPmVFd1C2XeBnfzXfOgEm9SVUFbs2bLUVJw1K5cTpg4A/s1600/10417015_10152319015190877_5302079793777114670_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzTmLGMgf4sNu2v4_8NgCiG02C-0xYCZL0Uz_MOlmLiKDXGP6ZeInLy5EPVzoEhrhvHZA1iiCmEXozH9cmGmZEuaWn5F18VrQpPmVFd1C2XeBnfzXfOgEm9SVUFbs2bLUVJw1K5cTpg4A/s1600/10417015_10152319015190877_5302079793777114670_n.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Our mission statement over the fireplace. I am forced (not in a bad way) to look at this through my entire practice. </div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0DUNv8X-zvfuOCQ-gmF6XLVpzZpLyRHm44S7XtHJpFIDVMMpwCBJUVGAzKup9yYNLihaLwpfdJUOUOKqvI1aln0flVv5Kbbbg_T3ue1CKdVn5k093Vpw_rPlhUFepmJ_LKBsFS9jbbg8/s1600/10710563_10152324620985877_3737088192436702379_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0DUNv8X-zvfuOCQ-gmF6XLVpzZpLyRHm44S7XtHJpFIDVMMpwCBJUVGAzKup9yYNLihaLwpfdJUOUOKqvI1aln0flVv5Kbbbg_T3ue1CKdVn5k093Vpw_rPlhUFepmJ_LKBsFS9jbbg8/s1600/10710563_10152324620985877_3737088192436702379_n.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<br />
I have talked about the journey I have been on to accept "what is" my entire life. As long as I can remember, my world has been surrounded by women who hate themselves. I say this including myself. Maybe it's being conditioned by the world around me, and listening to the women in my life that were supposed to show me what being a woman means, complain about their bodies that did it. Who knows? A combination of the two perhaps...This lead me down the path of eating disorders, and a case of Body Dysmorphic Disorder at the tender age of thirteen.<br />
<br />
Around thirteen is when the era of MySpace was really starting to take off. Long before the word "selfie" was ever a thing, people took self portraits to use for their profile photos. Remember those days? Where a bathroom photo usually involved an actual camera? I created a profile to keep up with my friends, and had the horrible realization that I actually had to take a photo of myself. The horror! I faced my fears and set up the self timer in front of my wall full of Beatles posters and posed. The cheap Kodak camera flashed three times and I rushed back over, prepared to see the monster that I saw in my mirror every morning. To my absolute shock, the girl staring back at me in the camera screen wasn't a mutant! Sure, her hair was big, and she had braces, but she wasn't half bad! Thus began my self portrait journey. I lived for getting dolled up and staging photos for my online friends all over the world. I received praise, compliments, and felt my heart skip a beat every time I had a new Photo Comment. Remember those feelings? For the first time in my life, I felt like it was okay to celebrate and not be ashamed of myself. A family member walked in on me taking photos of myself. "You're so vain, Payton. You're obsessed with yourself." This is the same family member that told me I was a "Child of God" and "Should be proud of his creation."<br />
<br />
So, let me get this straight. I'm supposed to value, treasure, and love myself as a "divine creation" but when I celebrate it, I am "vain" You can see the dilemma that lies within being thirteen and terribly impressionable. Damned if I do, damned if I don't.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrbNcghIo4VYyS5F42sJcdDxxgf25Xgt94UZznyAxd7ZxsyLbYZ1vqSfDX-OjZxSJlw-x9ikzOjJcg6k1oopD2mgPTyP43JJ4Gb9zlmI4qw1Drtsiv_RwEYh2bdUGmoet-r5kEie8mkWw/s1600/15778_10152306979630877_7964142101153325022_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrbNcghIo4VYyS5F42sJcdDxxgf25Xgt94UZznyAxd7ZxsyLbYZ1vqSfDX-OjZxSJlw-x9ikzOjJcg6k1oopD2mgPTyP43JJ4Gb9zlmI4qw1Drtsiv_RwEYh2bdUGmoet-r5kEie8mkWw/s1600/15778_10152306979630877_7964142101153325022_n.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
That's why my hair's so big...it's full of contradictory statements other people have told me. </div>
<br />
<br />
This way of thinking attracted a lot of real winners. My last serious relationship's number one argument involved the rest of the world getting to see "The Payton that everybody wants to believe is real" vs. what he "had" to see. "The real Payton." Apparently, it was somewhat insulting that he had to see me not in six inch heels, full makeup, the whole nine yards. This created intense amounts of insecurity within myself (how could it not?) to the point where whenever I would have to take my make-up off in front of someone else, I felt the need to give them a warning...as if it were the Elephant Man about to enter the room where I once stood...where most people either couldn't tell a difference, or thought I was being neurotic. I am only just now at the point where I know that I am wearing make-up because I like to feel more put together when I leave the house, not because I am hiding. I usually won't wear it to yoga, or around the house, whereas I used to put on a full face at the beginning of each day, even if I had only planned to be alone...just so I could look at myself in the mirror and not feel ashamed.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3pq_8A_HDb4MCeHgX-DqoKeqIJZwmPVJfb8pJ4__kkI2eN4Z-PXm5jLeRF-AQ65xNjS3dNK0k6xJH38_XHac6IfXjy92u8CRhatquEoHOL18NBadpJ0tA-ACeDfs_eW1qtHoKqmamOqw/s1600/photo-47.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3pq_8A_HDb4MCeHgX-DqoKeqIJZwmPVJfb8pJ4__kkI2eN4Z-PXm5jLeRF-AQ65xNjS3dNK0k6xJH38_XHac6IfXjy92u8CRhatquEoHOL18NBadpJ0tA-ACeDfs_eW1qtHoKqmamOqw/s1600/photo-47.JPG" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Without, and with the war paint. </div>
<br />
<br />
With this insecurity came copious amounts of anger. Anger at myself ended up being directed towards other people. If I hated somebody's band? I really hated them. If someone smiled at me the wrong way, I was in a bad mood for days. I am only now realizing this. My hatred of myself was turned outward to hatred of others. This was terribly confusing for me. So, I'm supposed to love myself, but not love myself too much because that made me vain, but only love myself with make-up on, love me in the mirror, but not in photos...all the factors that played into my already unhealthy internal monologue: "I will be happy when I weigh this much. I will be happy when I am in this size jeans..." NO WONDER I was so screwed up. No wonder I still have a conversation with myself that requires time to re-focus nearly every thought I have about myself. Deprogramming is hard.<br />
<br />
My current partner has honestly been a great help when it comes to my self confidence. When he tells me I don't need make-up for him to find me beautiful, I believe him. He likes that silly little birthmark under my eye I have been trying to hide for the last ten years. He likes my bed head. And he likes what's inside. And when you see someone else that can love you in spite of all of your flaws, it's much easier to accept them for yourself. My partner is very intelligent, and I don't want to insult his intelligence by telling him he is wrong anymore.<br />
<br />
Yesterday in yoga class, I had on a pair of leggings with an oversized t-shirt cut "Flashdance" style and a really tight tank top underneath. As we went into forward fold, I could see down my shirt, all the way to my scrunched up belly. And for the the first time in my entire life, I thought my belly was sexy. It wasn't flat. (No one's is in that position), but it looked like the beautiful women of the 40's and 50's in bathing suits, it looked like classical paintings, it looked like a grown woman's belly. Maybe it was the hip openers, maybe it was the fact I was surrounded by women much larger and yet still better at yoga than I that I still found to be gorgeous, maybe it was the positive atmosphere, or the fact I was having a great hair day, but I looked down at my belly and thought "Now that's sexy."<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh506rIxlCmNBoOMFdSgLFCVK9zFs2tfC5bV17pT6Z6kYlH7S28mkEMQ_XpoHj0MVe_UEVD4Hai8mkdcBuE6DNycORigTbjOXJY2_TVLXrwCpxobuE3cajTOUaICdfcDxAMus3wgFZe-g/s1600/IMG_5916.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh506rIxlCmNBoOMFdSgLFCVK9zFs2tfC5bV17pT6Z6kYlH7S28mkEMQ_XpoHj0MVe_UEVD4Hai8mkdcBuE6DNycORigTbjOXJY2_TVLXrwCpxobuE3cajTOUaICdfcDxAMus3wgFZe-g/s1600/IMG_5916.JPG" height="320" width="161" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW67IBAH9zCYT4F1NyQHrB97Q63jLfcMtYW8XM2EYki7J3ZWxxMXI0CBL2fw-3amenuiyi3zFNo8x43kEc8HRMovPWgFjv3uTv9i-ar5yg-ZE3i5sVBXt4UujmBffP_SPgfTLJkcT-s08/s1600/photo-50.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW67IBAH9zCYT4F1NyQHrB97Q63jLfcMtYW8XM2EYki7J3ZWxxMXI0CBL2fw-3amenuiyi3zFNo8x43kEc8HRMovPWgFjv3uTv9i-ar5yg-ZE3i5sVBXt4UujmBffP_SPgfTLJkcT-s08/s1600/photo-50.JPG" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
This is my belly. I am usually too chicken to show it off. Sometimes it's flat. Sometimes it rolls when I am in forward fold. Sometimes, it sticks out a little over the waistband of my jeans..But that's OK. I;m in good company.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_EKCtJCN3ecxwPoGPdLsOnoGD4MFU2UL48lhcJje4MazWuv9zFj2B1HwtLTO6WZazsQKKQFZC_j2ZR6j1ggrDi7oek4Tf0DGqFoTCZ8Y9PbrLBi7qWuPJFtm4RmYNed-DWHWuZ7bjjv0/s1600/72610_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_EKCtJCN3ecxwPoGPdLsOnoGD4MFU2UL48lhcJje4MazWuv9zFj2B1HwtLTO6WZazsQKKQFZC_j2ZR6j1ggrDi7oek4Tf0DGqFoTCZ8Y9PbrLBi7qWuPJFtm4RmYNed-DWHWuZ7bjjv0/s1600/72610_2.jpg" height="320" width="251" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsFTs7zVvwlW0jVMBUN9jHA60KS6oztGY051VUaV12aoz5_L2VooPSzH46kzWsldQ2CnKOMRYoxTfC5CHDmA6yeuSOd-wr9-XScZZSr5FAYjbCZLDILw2sZ03p1_-y6M8N2XkzszLYa4U/s1600/a1e1bf9d350d0fc2329a5fd703475553.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsFTs7zVvwlW0jVMBUN9jHA60KS6oztGY051VUaV12aoz5_L2VooPSzH46kzWsldQ2CnKOMRYoxTfC5CHDmA6yeuSOd-wr9-XScZZSr5FAYjbCZLDILw2sZ03p1_-y6M8N2XkzszLYa4U/s1600/a1e1bf9d350d0fc2329a5fd703475553.jpg" height="320" width="141" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<br />
I'm about to recommend something that sounds crazy here. A friend of mine wrote a blog a while back about her weight loss journey (she makes my 50 lbs look like a sneeze compared to how amazing of a feat she overcame) and spoke about those "Damn, girl" photos. You know the ones...you see them on your feeds...they make you say "Damn, girl!" or maybe you send them to your boyfriend, or husband while he is at work...I took the ultimate self portrait...a full on, standing nude. I wasn't posed provocatively, I wasn't trying to be sexual. I was doing the same thing that I did when I was thirteen and thought I had a mutated face. I was trying to see what I really was. I locked the door, set the self timer, and stood straight on. No angles, no fancy lighting, no filters...raw. I held my breath and waited for the 5...4...3...2...1 Snap. Unlike I used to rush over to see my handiwork, I walked slow and heavy footed....almost afraid to see the result. As I looked in the view finder, I started to cry. My mirror had been lying to me yet again. As I brushed a tear away from my eye, I said out loud, "Damn, girl." The girl in the photo had no make-up, she had a few stretch marks, a few odd freckles, and some scars from being terribly clumsy...but she was beautiful. There was the masterpiece that has taken years to create. There was the woman I had worked so hard to become. I took a mental snapshot and deleted the image. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH816CdmKSLUw5WmDOhkiaHkbeiHepA9mLe7OM-oAGhW_KRtQYhyNsLBbO1cMuqrljW_FOBsoXhLHWDYgn5jTfm5mrHGh7GqT8ldAQtMnpsSdd34AsGWuNFeAFdo8TEzn5xMULN8DdG_8/s1600/10419029_10152325706025877_4848701983436596274_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH816CdmKSLUw5WmDOhkiaHkbeiHepA9mLe7OM-oAGhW_KRtQYhyNsLBbO1cMuqrljW_FOBsoXhLHWDYgn5jTfm5mrHGh7GqT8ldAQtMnpsSdd34AsGWuNFeAFdo8TEzn5xMULN8DdG_8/s1600/10419029_10152325706025877_4848701983436596274_n.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
I eat insecurities (and glitter) for breakfast. Most days...</div>
<br />
<br />
Is accepting my body as it is an overnight process? Not in the slightest. I am still reprogramming my brain every day. I am having to remind myself that "Comparison is the thief of joy." and I am supposed to be in my body, not someone else's. If I were supposed to be smaller, I would be. If I were supposed to be taller, I would be. The fact of the matter is that I'm healthy, I'm alive, and I've got just a little bit of extra love in my belly sometimes. But the camera doesn't lie. If being able to look back at myself in the reflection of a view finder and not beat myself up, not cut down every inch of my body, not belittle myself, and not absolutely despise myself makes me vain, then start singing the Carly Simon song to me...because being able to feel like I am not a failure, like I haven't let myself down, and that not only am I adequate, but I am beautiful? I'll take that over false humility any day of the week.<br />
<br />
And let's get real, I probably do think that song was about me. :)<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2R4swtjM0UdY9Gx5HilXPcUGbi7w_HOJWOr_MZqfnrSWgzCoVMromeWnHEpc3E3GilGvpxYrAXBXibhgMq_s_BeA2P17vA7gvFZGDvhiZ7hASTL6vnDHGYNxw_46cHlNq5kwdxLPuK2M/s1600/10710963_10152313624365877_7875656643879087953_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2R4swtjM0UdY9Gx5HilXPcUGbi7w_HOJWOr_MZqfnrSWgzCoVMromeWnHEpc3E3GilGvpxYrAXBXibhgMq_s_BeA2P17vA7gvFZGDvhiZ7hASTL6vnDHGYNxw_46cHlNq5kwdxLPuK2M/s1600/10710963_10152313624365877_7875656643879087953_n.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJhDiH7V29xdRy-6u7oQBSgrGn9BZK877OENrvbqJqjpaHFdnzzuLYW-2efajjcAYulYM-bWX59qwwxjMMNGwue3jKffuiGietus_zBJyVQtkawb0GwMqQoO6wfuS3IJPbaHtfbiqSIvQ/s1600/photo-49.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJhDiH7V29xdRy-6u7oQBSgrGn9BZK877OENrvbqJqjpaHFdnzzuLYW-2efajjcAYulYM-bWX59qwwxjMMNGwue3jKffuiGietus_zBJyVQtkawb0GwMqQoO6wfuS3IJPbaHtfbiqSIvQ/s1600/photo-49.JPG" height="320" width="192" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Because sometimes, you just gotta ask the mirror if your outfit works for you that day or not. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
(Damn, girl.) </div>
<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06513292621953483673noreply@blogger.com2