From the category archives:

Life in Girl Land

Dressing Room Wisdom.

by Amber on January 29, 2012

Last night, I indulged in a little retail therapy. Descending on The Limited’s sale racks like the bargain hound I am, I filled my arms with loads of clearance-priced goodies. Sure, I wouldn’t normally go for a bright purple pinch-pleated skirt, but for $14.99, why not give it a try?

Arriving in the dressing room, I remembered why. Purple pinch pleats do bad things to my hips and butt.

I was staring into the mirror and sighing, thinking all kinds of unkind things about my body, when I heard something completely unexpected.

“Good lord, look at my thighs. I can’t wear this!” (that wasn’t the unexpected part).

“What are you talking about? You look great!”

“No. These jeans are too tight.”

“They are not. They’re perfect. You have curves. Embrace them!”

“You say curves, I say fat thighs.”

“We have thighs to protect our lady parts. They’re a good thing!”

“Maybe, but I just feel so self conscious…”

The other woman sighed.

“Look at me, then look at you. Do you think I look fat?”

“No, you look great!”

“And yet, I’m 80 pounds heavier than you. Do you know what the difference is?”

Silence (I assume she shrugged her shoulders or something).

“I love my curves. They make me look like a woman. Not some teenage boy. And you know what? Men like them, too.”

“Yeah, but…”

“But nothing. You girls don’t know how to appreciate what God gave you. I think I need to write a book…”

Her companion laughed. “Okay, okay, I get it.”

“So you’re going to get the jeans?”

“I’ll get the dang jeans. If you write that book.”

You know why that conversation was so awesome? The woman standing up for a woman’s right to be curvy actually believed what she was saying.

I don’t know about you, but I’ve stood in a dressing room issuing empty-mouthed assurances many a time. But I’ve never, in my heart of hearts, believed what I was saying.

Society – my society – has taught me that we’re all supposed to be a size 6. With the classic 36, 24, 36 measurements. And since, once upon a time, I actually had those measurements, it’s tough to believe I can be okay at any other size.

It’s refreshing to know it doesn’t have to be that way. That other women have already figured that out.

Maybe someday, the rest of us will too.

 

 

{ 8 comments }

The Language of Hair.

by Amber on December 1, 2011

A woman’s hair can say many things. It can speak volumes about beauty and sex, power and desire. It can be playful or woebegone. Do its best to attract attention or help its owner blend into the woodwork.

My hair? Has been known to do all of these things.

For most of high school, it was fairly nondescript. Whether short or long, its dishwater blonde locks  clung to my down turned face and cowered around my stooped shoulders. But as I came into my own, it gained more personality, sporting golden highlights and glorious curls.

In college, it suffered from an identity crisis. At times it was dark and goth. At others, it mimicked the sparkling blondness of the cheerleading crowd. But when I was feeling most like myself? It was red. Glorious, unforgettable red.

It’s impossible to hide with red hair. No matter where you go, or how you’re dressed, you stand out a little bit.

Red hair says certain things about you. It hints that you’re a little bit hot-tempered. A woman not to be messed with. Someone with the soul of a firecracker, and in possession of a great deal of passion.

It forces you to stand straighter. Meet people’s eyes. Walk around with an attitude of, “yeah, that’s right, I’m right here, buddy. You got a problem with that?”

Most often, the answer is no.

So, if you see me, take note of my hair color. If it’s brown, blonde, or some variation thereof? You can be relatively sure that I’m feeling pretty mellow, and not in the mood to make waves.

But if it’s red? Regardless of whether it’s long and curled or short and sassy, you’d do best to watch your step. I am ready to take on the world—and I don’t take kindly to those who stand in my way.

 

{ 25 comments }

My Life: As Told By My Closet.

September 1, 2011

Every woman’s closet tells a story. Some speak of high-powered executives in search of their inner yogi. Others spin tales about stay at home moms too busy to worry much about their shirt on their backs—and their inner goddesses who still yearn for sparkles and stilettos. Mine? Tells the story of a woman in search [...]

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Look Mom, No Hair!

February 7, 2011
Amber

Last week I asked you guys to pick my next hairstyle. And quite a few of you weighed in (thank you). But the results? Were rather ambiguous. The third option was out, but 1 and 2 were neck and neck. So I did what any good Libra would do. I took my trusty little smartphone [...]

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An Online Shopping Experience That’ll Change Your Life.

October 22, 2010

You know what my idea of hell is? Standing in a harshly lit fitting room, bare feet freezing on a cold cement floor, trying on pair after pair after pair of jeans that don’t fit. Seriously. I am short. With even shorter legs.  Short legs that, even when skinny, are rather more substantial than is [...]

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Call Me A Convert.

August 26, 2010
oh la la dress from Shabby Apple.

For many a year, I resisted the siren call of high-tech torture devices in disguise body shapers. They, I insisted, were for only the vain and insecure. And while my body was far from perfect, I preferred to disguise its defects with well-designed clothing, not girdles. Then I had a baby. After which, the lumps [...]

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