Taking risks

You might recognize this beauty of a head piece from this post, and if you must know, I now own several pairs of those socks and at least one pair of those booties, too. I guess when you drag cute little images around in Photoshop long enough it puts you into a less-than-budget-conscious trance. Despite my obsession with this hat, the idea of it and the real life version, I’m terrified to wear it. In fact, everything about this outfit scares me: hat (I never wear hats unless it’s like 2 degrees out and there’s a giant pom on top, of course), tight skirt (I generally try not to draw attention to the derriere), crop top (especially of the big armpit hole variety) and tights (they’re the softest, warmest, heavenliest tights I’ve ever owned.. might just be the game changer).

I’m not so sure what it is about clothing that scares me–maybe it’s another form of pigmalabiaphobia. Clothing can be a pretty powerful tool though. A kickass dress or perfectly fitting jeans can give me the biggest confidence boost, while the tiniest stain on a white shirt can turn me into a crumpled pile of embarrassment the moment someone dares to look my way. But why should something I constantly admire on other people, like hats, croptops or big donks in tight skirts, make me self conscious? It shouldn’t. Just like taking my car to the mechanic or asking a sales associate where the canned coconut milk is shouldn’t.

I’m not going to let it. I’ve taken more risks in the past two years than the 23 previous ones combined, and I’m not stopping now. No more doubting the bright red lips or the rad hat or my competency at the carwash. I’m capable. You’re capable. We got this.

Now I just have to venture out beyond my balcony..

Linking up here.