OMG TOO MUCH AWESOME.
It stayed in my closet for a year without seeing the front lines. When clothes were being shipped off to charity bins, this shirt made the cut and stayed in my closet.
I wore it once, around the apartment and both roommates thought it was hilarious and cute. Not awesome, like I knew it was, and certainly not chic. I was un-phased. Or at least I thought I was, until I realized the four little kitties went right back into the closet the next day and hibernated.
A little over a month ago I had a revelation. I stumbled onto Young, Fat and Fabulous, a blog written by a young woman who rocks out loud and takes no prisoners when it comes to her clothes. This girl has more panache than a wedding cake has buttercream. I was inspired. Suddenly I was armed with the knowledge that bigger girls could dress to impress. I carried that knowledge like a tommy gun.
As the changes started, I started getting compliments on my wardrobe from my roommates, my sisters, total strangers. It was like having an IV of awesome.
Then one day, I fulfilled my destiny. As though I could hear them purring my name, I knew it was time, so I wore the shirt. Not around the apartment. Not down to check the mail. I wore it out to an interview shoot for the documentary film I'm co-producing. I loved every second. I rocked it, even.
That's why when I look at it, besides seeing two pairs of snuggling, purring kittens, I see total bad-assery. I see sticking to my guns, and newly gained self assurance. I see Clint Eastwood.
The moral of the story: you make the shirt, the shirt doesn't make you, baby.
Tell me about your own soft kitty shirt experience... What have you done you weren't sure you were capable of?
A little over a month ago I had a revelation. I stumbled onto Young, Fat and Fabulous, a blog written by a young woman who rocks out loud and takes no prisoners when it comes to her clothes. This girl has more panache than a wedding cake has buttercream. I was inspired. Suddenly I was armed with the knowledge that bigger girls could dress to impress. I carried that knowledge like a tommy gun.
As the changes started, I started getting compliments on my wardrobe from my roommates, my sisters, total strangers. It was like having an IV of awesome.
Then one day, I fulfilled my destiny. As though I could hear them purring my name, I knew it was time, so I wore the shirt. Not around the apartment. Not down to check the mail. I wore it out to an interview shoot for the documentary film I'm co-producing. I loved every second. I rocked it, even.
That's why when I look at it, besides seeing two pairs of snuggling, purring kittens, I see total bad-assery. I see sticking to my guns, and newly gained self assurance. I see Clint Eastwood.
The moral of the story: you make the shirt, the shirt doesn't make you, baby.
Tell me about your own soft kitty shirt experience... What have you done you weren't sure you were capable of?
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