Weird Body. Fab Body. Every Body.

I don’t care how body positive you think you are, when someone says “beach trip” or “shorts season” you’re going to wonder if can  shed a few inches before that scary day is upon you.  I’m not asking to be Kate Moss or even have an Ashley Grahm moment.  But for the love of Christ on a cracker, if you ask me to wear anything other than maxi dress I WILL have to supress a panic attack.

I’m physically strong  and I love my wardrobe from September-April, but I am not what you call a “summer body”.  I UNDERSTAND why the kaftan was invented.  And I refuse to wear one…because I would never take it off. Hello, Kyle Richards.

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So to my excitement and horror four things are happening this summer that will probably shatter my body image to the point of literally wearing nothing but scrubs ( you’d be surprised how often people just assume I just left work).  But…fuck me, I’m going to suck it up and attempt fabulous.  Either way I’m going to be sweaty and self conscious, so I may as look like I give a fuck.

Florida mid- June

It was literally the only week my boyfriend was not going to be traveling for business and my cousin isn’t hosting company.  Did I mention my cousin has run the NYC Marathon and literally snapped back into a six pack after having her child?  Even if we’re not hangin’ on the beach every minute, I do not feel like walking around with my hair sticking to my neck, getting under-boob sweat, things ridingwhere they shouldn’t….UGH…I can barely handle the humidity in Ohio.  I want to enjoy the time with my cousin and her kid, not freak about whether or not I look like the Blob rolling down the board walk, consuming everything in sight.  Thank God I can sleep naked.

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4th of July  Family Reunion

Again with the beach and the good looking family.  I am the least attractive person in my family, and on my mom’s half by a landslide.  Speaking of snapping back after kids, my mom’s approaching 60 with a six pack.  This is probably the least panic inducing event of my summer because north east Ohio on the lake can be unseasonably cool.  I’m hoping to get away with a black sundress with a slouchy sheer duster for when the sun goes down.  One thing I love about my family (other than the fact that they’re fabulous) is that no one bats an eye if you wear black in the dead of summer.

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Giant Coastal Beach House

Actual in-laws, potential in-laws, a baby, a dog, and a case of rose.  I super can’t wait to be in the center of all of it; and all with the September weather in the Carolinas being fickle as fuck.  I’m not to the point with my potential in-laws where I can let my freak flag fly.  They usually see me as a littl square on Skype twice a month.  And although I would love this week to be anything but athleisure…I think that’s what’s gonna have to happen.  I’m not going to take a gamble in a bell sleeve romper with this much family time going on.  Well fit tees, leggings, chambray, low top Chucks, sports bras…no bras.  I think the biggest risk I’ll take that week is a pair of linen shorts I have for emergency cases.

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Moving to LA

This is what is making the rest of my summer super stressful.  Every bead of sweat, every fat day, every zit, is filling me with dread about the town where terms like “LA fat” and “LA 6” are dead on.  On one hand I’m stoked to explore a new city and for my boyfriend to enhance his resume, on the other I’m writing down the math of losing 50 lbs.  Technically we’re going to Pasadena, where the brainiacs of NASA and CalTech reside, so hopfully it won’t be that bad on a day-to-day.  But I don’t want to feel like jumping off Mount Hollywood after hitting a WeHo bar.  But as stated before, I don’t want to live my exsistence in an exciting place insecure to the point that I don’t have fun.  I’m going to atleast be at Mia Thermapolus level of self conscious at all times so I may as well look like Julie Andrews’ glam squad got to me.

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My brain is going to have to buckle the fuck up this summer.  Lots going on.  Luckily I have spring to ease into exposing my skin to outside air and do some shopping.  Poshmark and Marshall’s betta be ready.

Stay fabulous, stay weird.

A Weirdo Away

Travel is a special thing to me.  When I was 16, I begged my parents to let me go on the month long Euro Trip my high school social studies teacher organized every other summer.  They told me to choose wisely, it was either Europe or a car.  The family ’98 Jeep Grand Cherokee, aka Big Red, that my mom hated to drive to work would have to do. I felt cool, and cultured, and got to drink because they do not give a flying fuck over there ( I was still 17, not technically “legal” in most of the places we went).  We had this super hot tour guide that went clubbing with us in Venice.  I got lost in Berlin for 4  hours walking in the opposite direction of the land mark I was trying to get to.   My friends and I got followed by a guy with a knife in Prague.  It was nothing short of magical.

Unfortunately my days of gallivanting through Europe are limited.  I’ve jetted off (read:  rammed into a seat in coach stuck behind one of the most awful gashes of all time.  I’m not exaggerating.  Essex Snookie, her matted synthetic extensions, and shit faced bae almost got detained at landing because she was being a cunt punter to the poor mom with the crying baby in front of her #classy) to the United Kingdom a few times to see my boyfriend’s family.  If he so happens to have a conference in Paris and offers to pay for half of my ticket, so be it.  And if our friends in Berlin offer their extra room to us for a weekend, who am I to say no?

I hate touristy shit.  Who doesn’t these days.  Part of being a Millennial is to be a little too cool for school and go off the beaten path until its beaten to death.  Then go back on it again ironically and pretend not to enjoy yourself.  But I digress.  I love going to a city where I know someone who lives there.  It gives them an excuse to see a sight they’ve been putting off, and it gives me a chance to see a side of a place I probably wouldn’t have found on my own.  For instance, instead of going to some German tourist trap for dinner in Berlin, we went to this insane Israeli joint where I had THE best hummus bowl of my goddamn life.  My boyfriend took me to a kebab place in Manchester he frequented in college and I thought I was going to lose my damn mind it was so good.  Going to New York to see my cousin is fun because it gives her a chance to see an art exhibition she had been meaning to go to and I get to get drunk at a new bar.  Last time it was in East Harlem. We thought we were going to midnight brunch.  Turns out there is a basement club that we didn’t know we were invited to.  I don’t remember the cab ride home.

The best thing I can say about traveling is don’t turn your nose up at an opportunity to see a new place.  Don’t be basic.  Be fabulous, be weird.