Languorous stretching.
Laziness.
Breathing deeply.
Smiling.
Soaking in the heat.
Let’s all do that today.
Let’s wallow in the glory that is the summer, and the beauty that is the heat of another’s body close to you.
Long weekend here in Canada. I’m personally heading to the cottage. Gonna enjoy the love and laughs with a whole bunch of great friends. And that delicious, worshipful pleasure of staring at a campfire in the night and smelling it in your hair the next morning.
It’s great to indulge your senses like that.
…go wrong. Everyday. You wake up with a certain expectation of the day, at least I do, and everyday it turns out different. Sometimes better, sometimes worse, and sometimes just different.
So how do we deal with it? Get angry that the day didn’t turn out as we wanted? Yeah, sometimes I do that. I wish I didn’t though. I wish I didn’t put expectations on a day. But that the curse of humanity isn’t it? A desire to control what is impossible to control. I’m trying, emphasis on ‘trying’, to take the day as it comes. Still have goals, but realize that the unexpected and the beautiful can intrude on those days. Can intercede and either cause wonder or frustration.
I’m trying to be okay with that.
There’s this image that bloggers, mostly fashion and lifestyle, present.
Of course, it’s the perfectly lit and edited photos showcasing the oh-so-effortlessly-chic outfit that looks absolutely perfect. Yet the reality is this. This photo above taken at the end of the day. Hair is messy and sweaty from the thirty five minutes I literally just spent biking in high heat and humidity. The braid has become mussed from the day as well. And this outfit was more utilitarian than chic.
What you don’t see is the coffee spill from rushing. Or the ketchup that slipped out and onto pants. Or the wrinkles that happen when you’ve sat and just lived in clothes. You don’t see that. Because outfit photos are usually taken before all that, or it’s photoshopped out. And you definitely don’t see such stellar, model worthy shots like the graceful one below:
That’s right. Look at that poise, and grace.
Hot. I tell ya.
With a capital ‘H.’
With all seriousness, I love to make funny faces for the camera, and relish the use of a good prop. These glasses. Man these glasses are awesome. So ill fitting and ridiculous. And I usually have something equally ridiculous in my purse.
It comes in handy. For example, sitting at coffee with two friends who started talking all serious and I knew they would probably just bum each other out. I listened to them, then casually reached in and silently put on the glasses. No one noticed for a few seconds, but once they did. Laughs. And the serious mood was forgotten.
Plus, like I said: hot.
On pins and needles, I know. You’ve been eagerly awaiting the follow up post to this one. Well, here’s the dress I did actually wear. This one didn’t move anywhere on it’s own, it only moved with me.
That’s one of my requirements for a good dancing dress: that it doesn’t move of it’s own accord, so that I don’t have to spend the evening yanking and adjusting.
My other requirements:
1. Comfort. Stretchy or loose it has to be comfortable.
2. Breathable. Too much material and you heat up pretty fast. Then you’re a sweaty mess, and not in the good way.
3. Not too intricate. To many holes, loops, or architectural details, and someone at some point in the even is going to get caught in it, and something’s going to tear.
And my last requirement: that it makes me smile. That I look at it and something about it makes me energized and happy. ‘Cause a sad dancing dress? That would be baaaad.
This past Friday I had a friend’s dance party, to celebrate her birthday. Now, you know I love to dance, and I love me a great dancing dress. I put this fringed backless dress on thinking it would be perfect for the evening. I do love it. But after taking these shots, I came home and did the test. Always do the test. Test out what you’re wearing with what you’re doing. Why? Because I dislike fashion holding back my actions. I don’t want to be limited in my motion. I like the freedom.
So the test: I danced like I would for one song. During that time, the slip moved too much for my liking. It moved too far north, if you know what I mean. And that was after one song of dancing.
Nothing, not fire, not weather, not fashion will take dancing away from me. In this and all cases, if it doesn’t function, it ain’t happening. So, though I wanted to wear this, I decided that dancing all night with no worries was, and always will be, my priority.
What does this mean for the dress? It means that until I manage to get an inch or two added to the slip, it’s a going out and hanging out dress. Not a dancing dress – that calls for some very specific requirements….which I’ll talk about in my next post when I show you what I did wear.
I know, you’re on the edge of your seats.
A friend and I were talking briefly about mind games. Mainly how people seem to play them a lot. And we both agreed that this is part of the reason we have such difficulty navigating the world sometimes – because I hate mind games. I don’t get it. I don’t like it. And I by nature do not engage in them. I usually take people at face value. But I’ve learned to reign in that instinct, because I’ve been burned.
But at the same time, mind games take up so much energy and are frankly, draining. Often, we spend hours obsessing over something – say a crush – instead of just saying, “Hey, this is how I feel, how ’bout it?” That takes waaaaay less energy and is not confusing at all.
So raise a toast to the folks who don’t engage in mind games. To the ladies, like myself, who are a ‘what you see, is what you get’ kind of gal.
Now let’s go dance.
I have very imperfect friends. Some overshare, some drink too much sometimes, some say stupid things at the most inopportune moments, some can be harsh …basically they make mistakes and have flaws, and are human.
All of them are well meaning, and caring, and accepting, and honest.
I can tolerate a lot as long those things are present. Tolerate isn’t the right word. A lot of things don’t bother me because of the presence of the others – that’s a better way to put it. In fact, I count on my friends being imperfect, because that means that they’ll hopefully be forgiving of my own imperfections. Of which I have many, and I try to surround myself with people who will forgive me when I say/do something stupid at the most inopportune of moments knowing that I probably don’t mean it, because I’d like to think I’m well meaning, caring, accepting, and honest.
Sexy. That’s always been a hard one for me. I’ll admit it. I had this idea of what a sexy woman was, and frankly, I imagined it as far removed from me as the sun is from Pluto….so veeeeery far. I know that logically, this is silly. We’re all humans, therefore sexual beings, therefore sexy. But I ain’t talkin’ ’bout logic here. I’m talking feelings and self-image.
Cute. That was how I have always been described, and how I always think of myself. Cute. Smart. Girl next door. All good things, and I never had an issue with them. Just as you can tell, not sexy. Frankly, it has always confounded me.
But now, I’m sexy! No I’m totally kidding you. I still don’t really think of myself that way. I still think of myself as dorky, smart, cute, and well frankly awkward *Who’s got a talent for putting her foot in her mouth? ME!* But now, I think I’m accepting things a bit more, like I mentioned in this post about being past thirty.
There’s a fake construct of sexy in my head created by the world I live in, and there’s a self-perception of myself created by me growing up in said world. And I’m recognizing the two for what they are. Doesn’t mean they’ve changed or gone away, just means that hopefully their power over me is a little diminished.
It’s made me start to consciously reframe what ‘sexy’ means to me. I’m trying to/starting to see it as an energetic sucking the marrow out of life, combined with a playfullness, and comfortable acceptance of ones physical self. It’s also made me look at the people in my life with this eye and it’s made me realize that damn! I’ve got a lot of sexy friends.
