Wondering who I am? What I look like? What “sort” I am?
See this fab woman?
She likes her words. She has cool red glasses. She can even concentrate under a strange, retro, hair heating device. Oh, it’s in the name of beauty. Fine. I totally get that. We women go to great lengths in the name of our beauty rituals. Unfazed. Poised. Purposeful.
And, in case you were wondering… this is not me.
Beauty sleep?
See this woman?
She likes her sleep. Beauty sleep. And I think she gets it. (See that smile, while she’s sleeping?)
Clearly, she hasn’t yet had children. Or she’s on vacation. And note the clean sheets, silky tailored pajamas, and I can only imagine – luscious dreams.
No question. This is definitely not me.
Hippie hair
See this woman? Don’t you just love that hippie hair? Gorgeous. I’m channeling Peggy Lipton in Mod Squad. Sally Field in Maybe I’ll Come Home in the Spring – before the short cut. Even as I gaze upon these flowing locks, imagining myself in so sensual a persona… I probably don’t have to say it, do I?
This is not me.
Trippy Hair
Speaking of hippie hair, remember this trippy hair? Cousin Itt? Come on. That was some awesome hair. And the height is about right, though you know I would’ve gone for some great 4″ heels. Still, I had hair that length in the late 60s, and that could’ve been me.
Animal accessories
This doll-face? (Scandalously seductive, wouldn’t you say?) She knows her pout, she knows her grout, animal accessories are what she’s all about. Great gloves. Nice shades. That sponge in palm, on the other hand… as if ready to clean her tub?
Right. No way that’s me.
Exotic style and party dressing?
Have you ever done the Chicken Dance? You know, at a wedding, after you’ve had a few.
I tried to find an appropriate picture, but I couldn’t. I found this, and without attribution. So thank you, to whomever made this available and please do allow me to continue to use it or contact me directly if I must search out a willing foul and dress her for a photo shoot.
Yes, a chicken, informally attired for dinner in a very cute and practical suit. But I would’ve accessorized. Pearls at the neck, vintage broach, maybe a cuff bracelet. Or those leopard shades above.
It’s a matter of my personal style. Creative expression. And hot heels would be in order. Special order, no doubt.
And by the way… this is not me.
Eye liner? One liner?
I admit, I like my liner and I like my mascara. I’ll also cop to some bad days. But this woman?
She’s beautiful, no question. But does she own a mirror? Moi? I’m emotional, but not Emo. And I carry a Dior compact to avoid any such unnatural disasters. Nope. Not me!
Pearls? Yes. Tattoos on the tah-tahs? No.
Nice pearls. Mona Lisa smile. I’m feeling the look, right down to the satiny black slip. Could this be me?
Um. Tattoo on the tah-tah. And apparently another tat on the shoulder if you look closely. Hot or not, tattoos are not moi. And if I ever considered it? Wouldn’t I go for a tiny little pump? So you knew already. This woman? Not me.
Could this be Big Little Wolf?
Yes, I’m nearly done with my fashion and style Where’s Waldo. Very Saturday Morning Indulgence, I know.
As for this woman? She has the right hair color, giant curlers for that eventual oh-so bouffant look. (Volume, Ladies and Gentlemen. Anything to reach that 5′ marker.) And there’s serious pouty primping going on here. Red lipstick. High drama. Cheekiness. And the silvery corset of course, for her not quite ready-to-wear evening attire.
I’ll confess. This is me!
With these glammed up glittering peep-toe slingbacks on the feet, natch. But then, you knew there would have to be shoes. The shoes. Louboutin, of course.
Defining beauty from the inside
Sometimes, we know who we are by who we are not.
Sometimes, we learn to define our beauty and our style through process of elimination. We ruffle, shuffle, and scuffle our way through versions of a self in terms of behaviors as well as fashion.
We keep what’s fun or flirtatious. We shed the rest. We try ourselves on for size, then do it again.
If we’re fortunate, we learn to define our beauty from the inside. We hope to project it through our speech, our mannerisms, our actions. A little humor goes a long way. And of course, there’s our appearance, and occasionally a bit of help from a cosmetic product here, a beauty treatment there, an accessory, a style statement, and the always fashionable smile.
Often, it’s easier to say “this is not me” as we try on clothes, jobs, lifestyles, other people. We find ourselves through the no as well as as the yes, and the process of discovering who we are and what we are through this is me, and… this is not.
Click Addams Family to access Fanpop. Click Louboutins to access Saks.
I’ve had twenty-six years to sort all that out. It has come down to my handsome face, my smile, my actions and behavior, what I like and don’t like, etc. But I’m not done growing yet. People defining themselves by things they are not and sometimes hating what they are not is a dichotomy.
Also, my ethnicity plays a part in my identity and I question if some people’s attraction to and relationships with me are based on a fetish for people who have some kind of disability, but don’t play by the rules set by society for people with any kind of detriment.
Don’t go out in those big rollers, girl! (ha ha) And I just love when you don’t think you have a sense of humor and you write that you’re just about the same height as cousin Itt! Very funny.
Over here we find a woman definitely attached to her mascara and eyeliner pencil (should I be switching to Dior???) yet, because of my Jewish giantess status (5’6″), alas, and various klutz issues – no four inch heels. And I definitely know what’s me and what’s not, what suits my body and what doesn’t. At least I’ve learned that in all these years.
As I’m getting used to my new post-twin body, I’ve been faced with this issue just about every day. My closet is the closest thing I’ve had to a “frenemy” in recent years. I just bought my first girdle. But, I guess, welcome to my thirties, huh?
My secret weapons to look put-together when I feel anything but: a high bun with curly tendrils whimsically framing my face, the perfect shade of pink lipstick, a great trench coat, and pretty, comfortable shoes.*
*No matter how sexy your shoes, if you can’t walk in them *you* aren’t going to be sexy.
Oooo. Perfect pink lipstick. Yummy for spring! Now as for the sexy shoes, who says you’re going to be walking in them? 🙂
I am big on the mascara and the liner! But I’m WAY too clumsy for heels. I can barely walk in sneakers. 🙁
Well Ms. TKW – I’m guessing both you and Natalie are not of the Lilliputian Persuasion. Dare I say you both write like you are of modelesque stature?? You could walk about barefoot. I’m thinking pink painterly pedicure required for Natalie, to go with the pouty pink lips. And Kitch, you could try my Cherry Crush. It’s got a culinary twist, after all.
I think I “ruffled, shuffled, and scuffled” my way through all the iterations of “am” and “am not” in middle/high school. And I totally owned my five-inch bangs for a brief time. (Not to worry, I’ve burned all the pictures.)
Guilty – I am five eight without shoes.
My perfect pink lipstick, by the way, is Revlon creme gloss in “Patent Leather Pink.” I’ve never found a shade of pink that suits me so well.
BLW, I desperately need a stylist. I do, I do. Just had a long conversation with an old friend about how yes, I’d rather have no style than bad style but Really? This is the best I can do? Really? I mean, my plain jane looks are pretty bleak. I’m over it. I’m over myself. But I need to know what it is that I am, what kind of style fits me, and I think a great way to start figuring that out is to acknowledge what I am NOT.
Oh how I love thee and your witty ways.
Ha! I have an idea (wicked gleam sparkles in little woman’s eye)…
BLW, you are drop dead! And I am jealous of those Louboutins. An update of Dorothy’s There’s-no-place-like-home kickers. Frankly, I love being a little bit of something I’m not from time to time.
I do like that chicken… Who, I wonder, do you suppose she thinks she is?
I hope that’s drop dead funny, Abby 🙂 And yeah – I’d LIKE to look like that babe in the curlers! (Mostly I’d like those updated Dorothy Louboutins.)
Trippy hair, chicken dance, pearls, high highs, and tattoos… is that the new perfect woman? I will have an award for you on my blog in the morning!
One of compensations of middle age is being confident in your own style. One of the challenges is having to work a little to maintain the body to show it off without being body-obsessed. Healthy. I like to see women who are comfortable with themselves — that’s appealing to women and sexy to guys. The ones who aren’t chasing 25 year olds, that is!
I may not have an updated wardrobe (or the money for one), but I do have style. I know what looks good on me and what doesn’t. Really, though, I am comfortable in my skin. May I always be. : )
Women obsess more about their looks than men, that I can tell you! btw – I kind of liked the emo woman. ANd I love the big curler hair woman. Oo-la-la!