A rude awakening

So the other day I received an email response to my cupcake post. It was from none other than my niece. It read:

Ummm not digging the look. its a cross between an emo cleopatra and a vampire. not sippin the haterade!

I texted her about the ordeal and told her maybe it was the lipstick, that paired with my ripped jeans, cheetah shoes, and black shirt was too much.

Yeah, I think that was it, she agreed and added that she hoped I wasnt offended.

Oh course I wasn't, I had to laugh. I too thought the look was a little too harsh and a little too dark especially juxtaposed with the sweet cupcake with lavender frosting. I looked like a former vampire, discovering day light. no bueno. note taken, stick to red lips.

And then this Tuesday my boyfriend asked me if I wanted to go see a 5 dollar movie.  We had 50 minutes on the clock before we had to leave the house. Perfect, enough for me to take a half shower (no hair washing), get dressed, and put on makeup. "Guess what shirt I'm going to wear?" I asked my boyfriend. I was amazed when he picked out the exact shirt I was thinking of, a white long sleeved shirt with sheer sleeves and a chelsea collar adorned with a little pilgrim doily action. I had purchased it a few days prior for 99 cents. My vision was to wear it with a pair of simple black shorts and be done. But after having to call for assistance from my boyfriend as I tried to pull the shorts I used to wear 14 lbs ago over my curvy thighs, I had to go to plan B: cut myself a new pair of black shorts from some larger black Jordache pants I had thrifted. So there I was on my knees in my underwear armed with my Gingher scissors doing some last minute alterations on the carpeted floor of my bedroom.

"There how does it look?" I asked my boyfriend.

"Good."

"How about if I tuck in the shirt?"

"I dont think it's meant to be tucked in."

"How do you know?"

"By the length, it's too short."

And then I began stuffing it into my freshly cut shorts.

"Ok, how about now?"

"Um, it looks kinda.."

"How about if I add a belt?"

I reached into my belt box and pulled out a red skinny belt, and had him help me pull it through the loops. There was nothing left to do but put on my most uncomfortable pair of 20 dollar Charlotte Russe shoes and hit the road.

"Don't complain to me that your feet hurt," he warned me.

"Really, how are my feet going to hurt if we're just walking in and out of the movies?"

When we went in, the ticket taker complimented my blouse, but even I felt silly hiking the stairs to the top row in my red fuade (fake suade) platform heels in a theatre packed with teenagers.

After the movie was over we walked out and I said, "I look like George Washington."

George Washington if he were a trannie selling himself on the streets of downtown Guadalajara.

"I don't know why you got so dressed up, it was just the movies," my boyfriend said.

"Well why not? What was I supposed to do? Go in my pajamas?" I was excited about venturing outside of the house on a "date" with my boyfriend. I wasn't about to wear shape-ups, a t-shirt, and capris. But deep down, despite all my self defense, I did feel a bit silly. How did my style escalate so out of control that night? Who was to blame for whoring up ole George?

Myself. I was not being true to myself. Personal style blogs are supposed to be about personal style, not anyone else's. Why did I feel the need to go above and beyond with my outfits when I left the house? I want to set myself apart from the mainstream retail shopping of America but I had been crossing some lines. There is a time and place for every ensemble and I had made a mistake. Style is about taking risks, but when your own family sees through you, you are more transparent than the chiffon layer of my palazzo pants.

No more monkey business,
LaSophia

Get it, transparent, chiffon?

Did anyone actually read the text?

My friend made me laugh. Sike. It was just me and my tripod.

top- thrifted a dollar something

pants- vintage $11 dollars (I know, big spend.)

shoes- Guess, no really, Guess.