personal

Farewell, Badassery

by Sal on April 23, 2012 · 63 comments

Several months ago, HM and I saw a movie called “Haywire.” It didn’t quite live up to its riveting previews, but it was still an entertaining, engaging action movie. And what I really dug about it was that the main character, Mallory, was a serious badass. Unlike so many women action heroes, she was not what associate professor of politics Caroline Heldman has so aptly deemed a “fighting fuck-toy.” She was not on display to titillate viewers, she was not made to prance around half-naked, she was not sexy because she was some Hollywood-generated hybrid of porny and violent. She wore clothes that worked for an assassin, her one “love scene” was a passionate kiss with a colleague, and no one ever doubted her agency or prowess simply because she was a woman. Mallory was smart, driven, and capable. Period.

However, the movie haunted me on a personal level. And for a rather hilarious reason, I’ll admit. Watching Mallory deal with crisis after crisis coolly and efficiently, watching her cope with situations and stressors beyond normal human comprehension, watching her exquisite badassery unfold, I finally realized that my own badassery was … nonexistent.

Don’t get me wrong: I’m well aware that there is not now and never has been anything truly, traditionally badass about me. But I’ve always identified with badass women on a very personal, emotional level. Wonder Woman, Buffy, Starbuck, Trinity. I didn’t merely look up to them, I felt like them. I was convinced that underneath all my anxiety and privilege and geekiness was a core of tough, capable, superhero gold. That, if the time came and I was called, I’d step up. I’d fight.

But I can’t throw a punch. I can’t shoot a gun. I’m deathly afraid of bugs, I bruise easily, and my hacking skills consist of my ability to locate any style of shoe on the Internet in mere seconds. Hell, I can’t even run more than a few blocks without getting winded.* And, more importantly, I do not like conflict. Of any kind! If the time came and I was called, I wouldn’t step up. I’d ask what else needed to be done.

And initially, that bummed me out. Big time. I felt like part of my identity had been stripped away. I felt disappointed in myself for my lack of badassery, AND for being so delusional about it all for so very, very long. I felt weak and soft and timid. I was surprised by how much of my self-image was linked to this diamond-in-the-rough fantasy, and by how upset I was to see that fantasy shattered.

But, thankfully, the fantasy made way for the reality. In realizing that I wasn’t a badass, I was forced to think about what I was. What I am. I’m a creator, a clown, and an observer. But if we’re talking about crisis roles, I’m a caretaker. When everything goes kablooey, I may be the wrong person to send out on a revenge mission, but I can delegate tasks, calm upsets, and heal. And that might not seem as cool on the surface, but if fighters were all we had, we’d be in deep doo-doo.

I will always love dressing as badass as I possibly can without feeling ridiculous. But I’m getting comfortable with the notion that, when the zombie apocalypse arrives, I won’t be on the front lines with a shotgun. I’ll be behind the scenes tending wounds and soothing nerves.

What about you? How badass are you? How do you conceptualize your own badassery? Is it related to crisis management? Actual fighting skills? Something else entirely? Why are you tough? Why aren’t you? Is the idea even important to your identity at all?

*Give me a bike and that’s another story …

{ 63 comments }

Body Hair Revisited

by Sal on April 17, 2012 · 168 comments

Way back in June of last year, I wrote about body hair and its social and personal implications. A lively discussion ensued, and I ended up writing a follow-up post about my own techniques for body hair management. More lively discussion. The whole experience of sharing those intimate details and hearing about your own experiences and views was fascinating and eye-opening, and it felt good to read and consider the gamut of opinions.

Since then, I’ve had a rather intense experience with hair removal. I’m still processing it, but am honestly curious to hear if any of you have had similar feelings, opposite feelings, or never considered the issue one way or another. And I’ll warn you up front, this will get detailed and intimate pretty quickly.

I got a Groupon deal in late summer for laser hair removal, a technique I’d paid for in the past and felt was pretty darned effective. My little Sal-beard had started to become rather robust, so I signed up for some chin treatments. The clinic I’m going to (shout-out to Clinical Skin Therapeutics in Apple Valley – they ROCK) had some ongoing deals, so I chatted with my tech about various areas and, on what seemed like a whim, decided to get my bikini line lasered. I had settled on my chin because it’s among the most visible areas where I get irritating hairs, so, in retrospect, going for my bikini line next seems really odd. I’m a married monogamous woman whose husband could care less about body hair. What’s that about?

Well, I told myself that it was about pain and regrowth. Just like many of you who commented on those first two posts, I basically cannot shave within about three inches of my bikini line or I get the most unbelievably painful crop of in-growns, zits, and welts imaginable. So, mostly, I just didn’t shave there. And that meant I was extremely tufty well beyond the bounds of my panties. Boyshorts are fantastically uncomfortable on me, so for years I just dealt with the seemingly boundless overflow that issued forth from my undies. Just let it go prairie. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I had decided that getting that area lasered would be a great way to minimize regrowth pain.

But if I wasn’t shaving that area at all to avoid creating the pain in the first place … was it really about the pain?

Answer: No. It was about the shame.

Once I started getting the treatments and seeing results, once my pubic and leg hair was brought into check, once everything stayed tucked neatly inside my knickers, I felt SO MUCH BETTER. I hadn’t realized how upset it made me to be so bushy down there, how much shame and discomfort I derived from looking at my tufts. And once they began to recede, I was elated. Elated, people.

And that got me thinking about cultural standards and gender and subliminal messages. Because, hell, if my only sexual partner didn’t care about all that fuzz, why should I? And the answer is that I had literally never seen another woman with that much fluff, in print or in person. I felt like a freak, and I felt gross. No one in the world had ever told me that I WAS gross, but I still felt that way because I’d never ever seen another woman who looked like me. I’d seen men, though, and that added another layer of confusion. I began to realize that part of my issue was tied up in the gender aspects of body hair; As a woman, I wasn’t “supposed” to look this way, and since I did I appeared masculine. It became clear that what I was feeling was, in part, manufactured and imposed upon me by outside forces.

But being tuft-free radically transformed how I felt about my naked body. I felt sexier and prettier and more confident. I felt better about my body than I had in decades, and the only thing that had changed was I’d removed a two-inch strip of fuzz from my bikini line.

And those feelings of increased confidence are valid, even with all their baggage and hypocrisy. Just as I feel that weight loss, cosmetics, and any voluntary alterations to appearance are totally optional, so do I feel that we all have the right to choose them. Our bodies are ours to utilize, change, and present as we see fit, and many of our decisions will be influenced by outside forces. While it may be damaging to constantly force ourselves to conform to the beauty standard at any cost or without any critical or personal examination, we must trust ourselves to balance our choices.

So tell me: If you feel strongly about your own body hair, do you think any of that is tied up in shame? Gender norms? The beauty standard? How do you cope with your feelings, if so? Do you feel you are able to balance your choices about how you present your body to the world?

PLEASE NOTE:

If you feel strongly about this issue, express your views respectfully and civilly or they will not be published. I’m happy to participate in a discussion that includes contrary opinions, but will not tolerate cruelty.
Be courteous and kind to each other when responding to remarks from other readers.

Image courtesy Boden

**Disclosure: Actions you take from the hyperlinks within this blog post may yield commissions for alreadypretty.com. See Already Pretty’s disclosure statement for more details.

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Whoa. I’m 35.

by Sal on January 17, 2012 · 112 comments

The day has arrived: I’m 35. Off to ponder that over a cheeseburger and fries.

Back to regular programming tomorrow!

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The Fashion Confessional is Open

by Sal on January 9, 2012 · 176 comments

I pretty much never remember to check the back of what I’m wearing to make sure it looks OK. Sometimes it looks decidedly not-OK when I finally catch a glimpse in a reflective surface.

Every time I try to do a “smoky eye,” I end up with a “black eye.”

I am a self-proclaimed Champion of Color, but the vast majority of my wardrobe is black. Not just neutral, black.

If I see a trend that appeals to me, I typically track down the supplies to re-create it immediately. But it can take me six months or more to figure out how to deploy it in a way that aligns with my personal style.

Yep. You guessed it: Still hate Chanel.

I will never, ever have ladylike nails. When I try to grow them out or get a nice manicure, they become chipped, cracked, filthy, and disgraceful in a matter of hours. You’d think my job consisted of peeling labels off of jars and burying them in the dirt with my bare hands.

Cashmere makes me mildly horny.

I have three main bra styles: One for when I want my boobs to look big, one for medium, and one for small. Most days are medium days.

I am a lapsed knitter. My mom has tried to teach me to sew many times, and so has Trinknitty. I clearly have absolutely no desire to design or make my own garments from scratch.

I love plucking my eyebrows. LOVE.

I donate to the same thrift stores that I patronize. When browsing the racks, I inevitably gravitate toward items that I’ve donated. I never buy them again, but the cycle still cracks me up.

Care to confess anything?

Image via weheartit.

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Birthday Wishlist for Age 35

by Sal on January 6, 2012 · 52 comments

Very soon, I’ll be in my mid-thirties. OK, maybe I’ve been there a while, but somehow 35 feels more “mid” to me. I don’t have a lot of profound wisdom to share about aging, especially since I’m just not the type to reflect on past and present around my birthday. Mostly, I just want to celebrate and make the best of what is typically one of the most bitterly cold days of the entire year.

Luckily I have until January 17, my actual birthday, to come to cook up some deep thoughts. And to ponder potential gifties. Many of the items on this year’s wish list are likely to remain wishes forever, but they sure are fun to ponder.

A bohemian garnet ring - Since garnet is my birthstone, I own a few nice pieces. But I’ve been lusting after a giant, circular, Bohemian ring for years. Set in silver, of course.
A hot pink full skirt - My full, pleated skirts get loads and loads of wear, but I’m lacking a hot pink one. Since that color is a closet staple for me, I’m on the lookout.
A Desigual coat - I have a marvelous coat collection, but I would LOVE to add one of Desigual’s bright, busy, printed coats to it.
Nixon Time Teller in Tortoise - I adore the classic look of this chunky watch.
Free French fries for life - Or perhaps a French fry tree. Those can grow in Minnesota, right?
Ellen DeGeneres – OK, I don’t actually want Ellen gift-wrapped for my birthday. But I’d either like to have coffee with her, or MAYBE have her invite me onto her show. Just maybe.
An iPad – I’ve tried to justify this as a business expense, but just can’t. It’d be pure toy. Would still love one.
Clinique Superbalm in Black Honey - Finally ponied up for Almost Lipstick, and am now super curious about this balm. I’m a gloss/balm girl at heart.
The supplies for this DIY - Because I could totally do it and I’d totally love it, but I don’t have any of that stuff on-hand.
Bright printed skinny pants – All the ones I’ve seen so far look a bit too wallpapery, but I’ve seen a Talbots pair for spring that just might work.
A Saddleback briefcase – You know, for all my important briefs.
Trippen boots – I’ve tried on shoes from this German manufacturer before and they are heavenly. Some of the styles are a bit too funky for my taste, but many more are simply stunning.
Cross country skiing lessons - I need a winter sport. Still. This one seems like the most viable candidate.
Travel versions of all my toiletries and makeup – Every travel article I’ve ever read recommends this. I never seem to get around to it.
Sundance Three-bead Linen Necklace - This has been on my wishlist for about four years. It’s one of those items that I know I could make, know I never will, and know I can’t justify the asking price.
Something Keith Haring. Something other than a tee shirt. - I’d loved his work for years, then saw an exhibit at the Whitney that literally moved me to tears. I’d love a drawing or painting, of course, but would settle for something non-tee-shirt-y. A skirt? A scarf? A mug?
A self-trimming haircut - What? It’s a WISH list. I can put impossible things on it. I love my stylist, and I love getting a slightly new ‘do every 6 weeks or so … but wow. Short hair. Expensive.

Do you keep a birthday wishlist for yourself? What’s on it for this year? Any overlap with mine? (I mean besides the fries. Those are a wishlist given for all of you, I assume.)

**Disclosure: Actions you take from the hyperlinks within this blog post may yield commissions for alreadypretty.com. See Already Pretty’s disclosure statement for more details.

{ 52 comments }

The Stats and the Story

by Sal on October 31, 2011 · 129 comments

Recently, I ordered a custom, hand-knit sweater from an Etsy vendor and she requested my measurements. I’ve really botched my measurements in the past, so I took a series of photos and drew some lines on my body in Photoshop with inch measurements so she’d know exactly how I was measuring my shoulder span and bustline, where from, and what it meant to me. I trashed those photos ages ago, unfortunately, but the exercise was an interesting one. And I wanted to re-create it here for a number of reasons, which I’ll explain shortly.

I used this recent outfit photo because it shows a group of garments that I wear frequently (and frequently in this combination), because this is how you see me on a near-daily basis, and because I think the numbers superimposed over the clothes make for some interesting dynamics. Here are the measurements I sent to Pilland.

Hopefully you can see all of those, but just in case you can’t, here they are again:

Shoulder span: 16.5″ (this is the only flat measurement included here)
Bust: 37″
Underbust: 34″
Natural waist: 32″
Wearing waist: 37.5″
Hips” 42″
Arm span: 52″ (couldn’t find a way to fit that onto the photo)
Height: 5′ 5.5″
Weight: 150 pounds

How all of this translates into clothing sizes:

Dress size: 8
Shirt size: All. Seriously. It depends how I want something to fit. Typically an 8 or medium, though.
Bra size: 34B
Skirt size: 8 or 10
Pant size: 10 or 12
Inseam: 31″ (sometimes 32″)
Shoe size: 8

My proportions mean that I don’t typically have a lot of fit issues. I do occasionally have to get pants hemmed, or waists taken in since what fits over my hips is sometimes quite loose in the waist.

What’s the point of all this? I mean, besides arming you with info in case you want to get me a gift? Well, for one thing it shows that top size and bottom size can have discrepancies, even on a seemingly “proportionate” figure. It shows that skirts will fit someone with my figure quite differently from pants. It shows why I typically belt high on my torso, and that there’s a noticeable difference between high and low waists on me. It shows that I’m not built like a model and never will be, which has likely been clear for quite some time. Hopefully, the photo itself and the numbers that accompany it show that I’m just fine with that.

I have always felt comfortable using myself as an example on this blog. I’m all I’ve got, so if I want to illustrate a concept, I’ve got to use my own body and hope that you, as readers, can compare and draw conclusions that apply to your bodies. In this case, I’m willing to bet that there are droves of you who weigh 150 pounds or have 32″ waists or are 5’5″ and aren’t shaped a thing like me. And wear completely different clothing sizes. Weight, size, and proportion conspire to create an infinite variety of human forms, and two people who share weight, size, and proportion can look incredibly different from one another.

But perhaps most importantly, this post shows how little you know about someone just by looking at them, and how body stats actually provide scant additional, relevant information. I’d wager that most of you had no idea what I weighed or what my waist and hip measurements were. And even though you’ve now got a whole bunch of details about my body, you still don’t know everything. You don’t know how many vegetables I eat each day, or how much weight I can lift, or how far I can run without getting winded. You don’t know anything about my medical history or the various ailments that affect my weight, eating, and overall health. You don’t know my body fat percentage or BMI, and neither do I because I don’t consider either to be tremendously helpful figures. You don’t know how I look without a bra or barefoot or naked. You don’t know how often I exercise, or what I do when I exercise, or how it affects my figure or muscle tone. You don’t know how my body used to look, or what I love about it, or how it changes in response to life events, or how I’m feeling about it on a daily basis. You know the stats, but you don’t know the story.

Our bodies are so much more than they appear. And they are ever so much more than the numbers that describe them. Those numbers can be helpful in certain contexts, but they will never provide a complete picture. So don’t ever let stats turn you against your body. Don’t ever let them rule you, shame you, or hold you back. They are just one chapter in the story of your body. The true, whole story of your body is one that only you can know.

And, in my opinion, that makes it sacred.

{ 129 comments }

So, What Else is New?

by Sal on October 7, 2011 · 41 comments

I can’t quite believe it, but it’s been a month since I entered the overwhelming, wonderful, frightening world of the self-employed. It feels strange and self-indulgent to write an update post on my doings, but I’ve gotten a large number of questions via e-mail and comments, so I assume the topic is of interest.

Finances

One question that has arisen indirectly is about money. How exactly does a blogger make a living? I’ve been as transparent as possible about how I make money off of the blog itself, but now that I’m out on my own, I’ve had to supplement that income with other streams. Lots of them. I am contributing posts to The Frisky as fast as I can pitch them. I am contributing style features to the local daily paper, the Minneapolis StarTribune. I am working on several online and a handful of in-person style consults at a time. I am continuing in my role as a community leader at the BlogFrog Coffee Talk Community. I am teaching various classes and booking private and public speaking engagements. And those are just what’s happened so far! In the cooker are regularly scheduled style clinic events, community ed classes, loads more freelance writing, and whatever else I can drum up. All of these things make me small amounts of money, and I need to keep many of them going all at once. The blog revenue is key, but it is far from being the only thing that’s keeping me financially afloat.

Daily activities

Another indirect question that’s popped up in a few places is, “But what do you DO all day?” And before I launched this new phase in my life, I wondered the same thing about self-employed folks. I certainly cannot speak for all bloggers, writers, or work-at-homers, but here’s what my typical day looks like:

I wake at 6 a.m. with Husband Mike and start working in my PJs. I spend my first few hours answering e-mails from readers, vendors, and colleagues, as well as reading through the various blogs I follow (over 300 in my reader), and adding posts to the weekly Lovely Links roundup as I find them. By 9 a.m. or thereabouts, I force myself to step away from the computer and get some exercise – either a bike ride or a walk for 45 minutes or so. When I get home, I eat a snack and get sucked into a little more work before hopping in the shower. I get dressed, and on days when I don’t have any appointments I’d say my greatest luxury is actually taking my time to work on and hone my outfits … but that’s been a rarity thus far! I typically do more blog reading and correspondence until and through lunch. After lunch is when I tackle larger projects: Client work, freelance writing projects, or writing posts for the blog. As I have done since the early days, I write posts in groups and schedule them for publication. If I didn’t do that, I’d lose my marbles. This system allows me to think carefully about how to balance content for the week, and also is absolutely key to time management. I work until at least 5 p.m., when HM arrives home. We shoot my outfit for the day and I put that post up. We eat dinner. I typically work for at least an hour after dinner, sometimes longer, typically on more correspondence: Answering questions, pitching stories, working on event collaborations, hashing out details for giveaways, dealing with tech support issues, and similar.

That’s a day at home. I do group co-working sessions several times per week, so much of the afternoon work is done off-site, so to speak. I’ve also been doing the aforementioned teaching and consulting, so there’s a fair amount of running around. I have been able to do a few lunches with girlfriends, but absolutely none of the errand-running or deep-cleaning housework I imagined I’d have time to tackle. I’m kind of amazed to discover that I feel I have less time now than I did working a full-time office job.

Outfits and style

A question that has come up more directly is, “Are you just getting dressed for the blog now?”

Heck no!

To elaborate a bit, I consider personal style to be one of my major creative outlets. I enjoy dressing, playing with my wardrobe, crafting fun and expressive outfits. It definitely feels different now that I’m not an office worker, but I get dressed every day for myself. I love it! I imagine I always will. On days when I have appointments or leave the house to co-work, I am more likely to step up my game and do something eye-catching or fancy. And I can imagine that, as winter sets in, my at-home-day outfits may become more smart-casual than straight-up smart. But there hasn’t been a single day when I’ve stayed in my PJs until 3 p.m., then scrambled to throw something on before HM gets home to take my photo. I dress up because I enjoy doing so. And I’d do it even if the blog didn’t exist!

I’ve also gotten a lot of, “Did you really wear that all day?”

I surely did!

My outfit photos are taken when my husband arrives home from work, and they are of whatever I’ve been wearing that day. I will admit to kicking my shoes off on occasion so I can more easily cross my legs in my chair, but I did that at my office, too. The outfits you see are the outfits I’ve worn. I own a lot of crazy shoes and unusual garments, and I love wearing them. Even if no one but the cats sees them until they get posted to the blog.

Perhaps the most frequent comment has been, “Your style is changing.”

Yes, it most certainly is.

In the past month, I’ve made drastic changes to my career and lifestyle. Plus I chopped off ALL my hair. If my style had remained the same throughout all that, I’d actually be quite worried! I am still very much in the throes of figuring out where I want to take my personal style next, and it’s an exciting and challenging time.

The structure and built-in feedback of working in an office put many constraints on my style. It feels marvelous to be able to wear anything I want any day of the week, but also a bit daunting. I’m feeling both internal and external pressure to be more daring and creative than ever, and also to create some consistency in my looks, which means that many of my outfits are experimental and some of them are duds. But that’s what happens when you’re going through a sartorial growth spurt, and I’m fine with it.

The influx of “your style is changing” comments actually began as soon as I cut my hair, and it’s been interesting to field them all. I definitely feel that drastically altering my hairstyle has prompted me to tweak what I’m wearing: I’m more drawn to androgynous looks and pants than I have been in ages, I’m loving tough/punky accents, and many of the earrings I once wore now look completely weird on me. But some of what you may be observing is passive: My hair was fairly voluminous and about shoulder length when I chopped it. Now, my neck is more exposed, my face framed differently, my proportions transformed by this physical change. Even if I were dressing exactly as I did before I cut my hair, everything I’d wear would read differently. I am definitely implementing changes, but I may look different for multiple reasons.

Gratitude

If I’m being completely honest, this has been an incredibly stressful month. Incredibly. I’m pretty sure I overcommitted in an effort to prove to myself, my husband, and anyone who asked that I could totally handle this self-employment thing. I’ll have to be more careful about that in the coming months. But I also thank my lucky stars for everything and everyone that conspired to make this change possible. (Including you, dear readers!) I no longer get Sunday Night Dread, and am excited by every day’s self-made agenda. I’ve met some amazing people and am working on some thrilling collaborations with local luminaries. My brain is constantly abuzz with post ideas, improvements to the blog, article topics, and new projects. It feels like, after puttering around in second gear for ages, I’ve finally kicked up to third.

Everything in my life feels new right now. As a person who loves routine, stability, and security, all this newness wigs me out a bit. But I’m smart enough to be unspeakably grateful for my opportunities and privileges. I know exactly how fortunate I am to be making my way, on my own right now in the midst of so much tumult and strife.

I hope this was an interesting and helpful glimpse into what’s been going on with me. I’ll do my best to answer any related or further questions you may have in the comments.

{ 41 comments }

Ten Years Later

by Sal on September 11, 2011 · 11 comments

I’m not sure what to say – since there really isn’t anything more to be said – but I cannot let this grave anniversary pass without acknowledgement.

I was working at a book publisher at the time and, bizarrely, got the news via e-mail from a friend living in Derby, England. I thought she was joking until I saw the footage myself in a coworker’s office. And even then, all I could feel was shock.

I lost no one close to me, but know many who did. I considered posting a link to one of several photo slideshows I’ve come across this week, all of which moved me to bitter tears, but I just couldn’t do it. Honestly, I don’t know how to properly honor this date, but I simply couldn’t pretend that today is just another day.

Love and honor and serenity and yet more love to all those who suffered and lost ten years ago.

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