“Vulnerability is our most accurate measurement of courage.” Brene Brown
Recently when in Austin I stepped into one of only a handful of brick-n-mortar Modcloth locations. I made an appointment with one of their stylists, KEPT the appointment, and ACTUALLY TRIED ON CLOTHES IN FRONT OF A STORE MIRROR. I don’t know about you, but I much prefer ordering clothes online (always getting the wrong size) and trying them on in the comfort (then disgust) of my living room. Embarrassed, I then throw the garment in the back of my closet. I shame it, never to be found again until it’s Goodwill season. Sounds totally sane right?
So instead of fixing the problem, I stopped shopping altogether. I’d become paralyzed to the process. You laugh at me, but I know from my twenty years of experience working behind the chair as a hairstylist that even the most bad asses of females have some of the strangest insecurities. This would be one of mine. The dreaded in-store try-on.
My tits tend to be too large, my ass bigger than my waist, and ya know it just gets exhausting. And never mind the stylists that are always tryin’ to bug when you’re like, “damn, I’m just trying to live my life over here alone without any help from anyone and I have no idea why I can’t figure anything out that way.”
So I finally sought out the help I needed, quite literally put my on my big girl panties, and went for it. I made some pretty big, hairy, audacious goals for myself recently and in light of that, when I feel like I need to do something that feels uncomfortable I say to myself, “Bitch. You wanna be a millionaire you better start acting like one.” And the fear subsides and honestly, the anxiety that came along with it. I couldn’t figure out where this next level of fierceness was coming from. And then my Modcloth order arrived.
Everything I ordered arrived all once, even a dress I dared to order without even seeing it. That’s a bold move for a girl who just walked into a store, thought she was a size 16, and turns out it’s a 20. Twenty? What the. Whatever, I’m working out, eating better, and now that my back is almost fixed from being a dumb ass and working 12 hour laptop days all winter and putting on 50 pounds I can now finally move my body enough to lose the extra weight. I’m not mad about this because 1-I’m a body positive bitch and 2-I’ve finally mastered patience. And once you master patience you stop worrying about a few extra 50 pounds because you know it’s all gonna work out. Because it always does. And that’s what I tell my anxiety every fucking time it tries to tell me otherwise.
After assembling all of my new outfits (that ALL fit!) I reach for the one item that I’d boldly chosen without seeing. (At the Modcloth brick-n-mortars you try on clothes and they ship them to you. This particular dress wasn’t available to be tried on, so I bought it anyhow and had it shipped.) It wasn’t black. It was bright fucking turquoise. “No fucking way is this going to look good on me.” I go try it on and it just didn’t feel right. I mean, it fit like a damn glove which is no small feet considering nothing has fit over my tits in over a decade. But this look was bold. It outed my shape. It said, no fuck that it SHOUTED “pay attention to me mother fucker I’m an ample breasted woman who isn’t afraid of you to look at her boldness.”
This dress is a little too cute. It’s a little too bright. It’s a little too shapely around my breasts. This dress was literally the embodiment of how I feel inside. Too loud. Too colorful. Too much.
With every impending goal oriented week I am tasked with a new set of challenges to overcome on my way to millionaire-ville, and trying on clothes in the dressing room was a challenge I not only accepted but crushed. Confidently wearing this dress would be proof of that. Owning my assets had given me a new level of power. I feel confident that the next six months of growth in my business is going to far exceed the last two years because I now have the level of confidence necessary to obtain the growth I want to achieve.
'Clothes aren’t going to change the world, the women who wear them will' - Anne Klein
Clothing can be a powerful thing.
The right look is the uniform you wear into battle.
Choose your uniform. Who do you want to be?