GAME OF THRONES SPOILER ________________________________ Not really but you’re a bloody daredevil ain’t ya.
It’s funny how we look at images of ourselves and see the flaws only. The smudged lipstick, the chub rub shorts that I needed @april_todd to photoshop black instead of nude, the flyaway hairs. But what everyone else sees is a happy woman, sitting on the fricking Brooklyn Bridge, in front of the New York skyline, living her best life. It’s about time we start seeing that woman too.
Wearing a neon suit on the streets of New York means more than just wearing something for the ‘gram. Even though I’m sure I had you in my DMs, @tanfrance on one shoulder and @jvn on the other telling me to kill it (and something about a squirrel), I still felt TERRIFIED. Because in the mirror and the kind lighting of my hotel room I looked like the sassiest Stabilo just waiting to be plucked out of the grooviest of Groovy Chick pencil cases. But in the harsh light of the New York setting sun it *literally* highlighted every mark of cellulite, wobble of thigh and lining of knickers. And still I persisted. I decided to not let fear overcome me for once. I decided not to opt for the black jeans and the baggy jumper in the name of comfort. To not wallflower it out. To not let my insecurities get the better of me. And guess what? I didn’t die. No one called me a ‘neon knob’ from across the street. On my journey to rebuilding my self-esteem and overcoming my low-confidence issues, we’re one polyester, gifted @boohoo suited, step closer.
I did a thing.
The weather says 10 degrees yet, in the sun it’s sweatier than Paul Danan at a Huddersfield nightclub appearance.
You can always trust Chinatown to hear sweet nothings whispered in your ear. Like, ‘Vuitton, $25 dollars’ or, ‘You want Hermes belt?’