Don't Trip, It's Just a Nip

It's 2014 and nipples are everywhere. One of my favorite fashion trends, or perhaps fashion taboos, is that once you get to the peak of high fashion, nipples all of a sudden go from unspeakable burdens to full blown accessories. Miley, Kimmy K, and we can't forget Rihanna, are all bearing their chests in see through garments leaving nothing to the imagination. Should we be blurring them out or sending our praise? Where do we draw the line between trendy and trashy? I say, slip those nips with pride! (only if you want to, of course). It's the age old questions of why can men be shirtless but not women... I'll tell you what, I'd rather look at Rihanna's knockers any day than half the men proudly barring it all on the beach. For too long have women's bodies been shamed for being nothing but beautiful. We shouldn't encourage girls to cover up, we should encourage them to be proud of what they were given because they shouldn't be changing themselves to please others. Obvi I don't want my future thirteen year old running around the mall in see through clothes, but when she's a woman of age I don't want her to feel like she has anything to be ashamed of, that she has to hide herself from the world in order to fit THEIR standards that THEY created for her. We're anatomical masterpieces. Each piece of us matters, each part of us has a function, each of our souls has a purpose. Bare yourself with pride, or don't, but never shame yourself or others for feeling beautiful inside and out. 


You're gorgeous. Don't change a thing. 

Don't Tell Me I'm Pretty

I've never actually liked being told I was pretty, perhaps because I never thought I was. Perhaps, and bare with me on this one, because I've always known I'm not. I'm not pretty in terms of what modern day American society has dubbed as "beautiful." Large eyes, small nose, plump lips, high cheekbones, perfect unmarked skin. Those are the things that are "pretty" and those are the things I will never have. The thing that makes me feel pretty is makeup, because with makeup, I can have all of those desired qualities in 40 minutes or less. Almost every woman in America wears makeup, yet it is such a sore taboo subject. "You don't need it" "You look fine without it". The only thing I have to say is, it's my face. I'm not exactly sure why drawing a black line across my upper eye lid makes me feel beautiful, but it does, so leave me alone.
Forth of July morning, I was running late to our town's parade. I didn't have time to put on the funky blue eye-liner or the neat red lips that I wanted to wear in order to look patriotic, or whatever, so I threw them in my purse and started applying them on the street corner as I waiting for the festivities to start. An older man walking past approached me and repeatedly told me to stop, because girls don't need all that on their face. I appreciated his concern for young girls feeling the need to "cake it all on" to please the masses, but his judgmental eyes were what I had a problem with. Any makeup artist in the world will tell you that makeup shouldn't be used to hide yourself, but only to enhance the features that you are already given. My thoughts are so conflicting. Girls don't need makeup. We don't. But, the human race as a whole has evolved to a point of not needing any sort of body hair whatsoever, yet we still have it, don't we? It's cosmetic. Hair is a security blanket, and so is makeup. Of course I would never tell a girl to pack on the foundation, cover those zits, smoke out those lashes, paint on those lips, but if she does SO WHAT? Why are we trying to make girls feel awful with AND without makeup. They need to be born flawless or gtfo? Guess what sweetheart, anybody can be a natural beauty in about an hour.
I'll admit, some mornings I'm bitter about makeup. I look in the mirror at my imperfect skin and I think about all the boys who bullied me in Jr High School for not being "pretty enough" and I think to myself, I was never ugly, I just didn't wear enough shit on my face for their liking. Although, I have trouble leaving the house without makeup on, I don't feel ashamed because of it. The way I see it, girls love makeup, and if some blush or some colorful lids make us feel good about ourselves, why should we not wear them? Why should we be forced to feel lessened because whats on our outside doesn't always match what's on our inside? The picture above is my most recent insta-selfie. I don't care about the number of likes, or the number of girls/boys that told me I looked great. I care about the comment a friend of mine made about my makeup, telling me it looked fantastic. THOSE are the kind of compliments that mean something to me. I took time to put on makeup, to use my face as a canvas and paint a picture over top of a confident girl who loves herself. I got to pick out my eye shadow, I did not get to pick out my face. Please, don't tell me I'm pretty. Compliment me on my art, not on the type of paper it was created upon.

With or without makeup, the people that mind don't matter, and the people that matter don't mind. 

Maybe The Grass Isn't Greener, Maybe I'm Just a Bitch

I took this picture on a whim during a hike the other day and I can't stop looking at it. I should use the term hike loosely because I was all dressed up and happened to stumble upon a path that looked alluring and needed to see what lied ahead (which is very dangerous to do by yourself, I do not recommend it) (I also don't recommend hiking in heels. Heed my warnings because I was dumb enough to try). Regardless, I'm not usually a girl interested in nature. This view just caught my eye considering the circumstance I was in, and I felt the need to snap a quick pic. On Saturdays, not every Saturday but they are becoming more and more frequent as times goes on, I get in my car and head out on a journey into the city. I live in a small town called Latrobe that's basically a Hill Billy's dream world. Farms and confederate-flag-acrylic-nails can be found around every corner, and the Olive Garden along the highway is the fanciest place for miles. Sometimes I need to get away. Sometimes I need culture or danger or all of the above. When I'm somewhere, anywhere, that's not my home town, I feel like I'm in a movie. I get dressed up and take the hour and a half long drive into the city of Pittsburgh to go to museums or to eat at odd restaurants. I feel like an adult. I feel like I'm learning things even when that's not my intention at all. But then I took this picture and I felt like I had taken two steps backwards, because once I got home and laid in my bed and opened up my Camera Roll, I discovered that this was my favorite of all the pictures. I realized that I had to go to a large, populated city in order to take a picture like this. A picture that I could have easily taken in my backyard, or some place very close by. But it was my favorite. So maybe the grass is greener on the other side. Maybe we aren't miserable just because of our location, maybe we're just miserable. I always think that I'd be happier in New York City, and although I still believe that to be true, perhaps I'll pack a pair of cowboy boots just in case what little grass they have in New York City isn't so green after all.

No one knows about these secret trips. Don't tell my mom. 

Keep Trying to Make FETCH Happen

Let me start off this blog by saying Regina George is a punk bitch and we all know way too many of her. I found this shirt at my local mall and wore it proud through the streets of Chicago while visiting a friend. "Stop trying to make FETCH happen," Regina hisses. Why? Why should Gretchen stop trying to make FETCH happen? Why should any of us stop trying to make anything happen? I've lived a large portion of my life as a wanderer, not knowing where I fit in or what my purpose was. Then one day, I picked up a makeup brush and my life was transformed. In a month I'll start school at Kent State University for fashion merchandising. I want to show the world (but more importantly the people who knew me before college, the ones who never believed in me) that life doesn't have to be the way it is, that fashion is more than going to mall. We can be anything we want to be and do anything we want to do and just because we aren't good at math and don't have Doctorate degrees doesn't mean we can't make something of ourselves. I'm going to the top and you can try to stop me but don't cry when you can't afford the clothes I make. 

The first rule of dance is point your toes or die. The second rules is: MAKE IT HAPPEN.