I’ve gotten into a habit in my life of wanting new clothes when I’m off on a new venture.
New job? Shopping.
Pregnancy? Shopping before I needed it.
New baby at home called for a velour lounge suit (I know you had one too, right?)
Next month I am embarking on a week-long adventure. I am traveling to Vegas with my husband for the SITS Bloggy Boot Camp there and also spending time with my one and only on an one-to-one basis for at least one day.
The day after I come back I am leaving on a jet plane to attend another conference, one I was invited to and promise will talk about later.
Problem is, do I have what I need to wear? or is it, does what I tend to wear fit my vision of what I’m supposed to look like at these places?
I can tell you I’d already trying to figure out where my favorite leopard-print dress will go.
The state of my closet was already on my mind when I read Fadra’s well-times piece on self esteem.
When I’m in an unfamiliar environment, dressing by the numbers eases my stress and gives me one less thing to worry about. But, oh, how I worried as I was packing.
That is me, every single trip, every single blogging event. Any venture to a new place means I have to pack a shield of confidence disguised as a cute dress, something sparkly, something new.
For me, clothes make the woman’s confidence.
I recently got to shoot my friend’s band at the House of Blues, and for a while, when I first walked in, I felt unnerved because my concert staple of a black top, jeans and Chucks did not make me feel as confident as I was 10 years ago, almost 70 pounds ago.
Yeah, I just went there.
Why, because when I met my new doctor yesterday, he typed in words that had not been applied to me- till now.
I had never been a fan of the scale, since it was such a liar in my case, supposedly.
‘But you look great’ I would hear. ‘No, you’re not fat’.
Well, the doc said I was, confirming the little voice in my head.
The same little voice that had whispered in my ear when we first hit HoB.
I hid behind my camera, and it became my weapon, as I rejoiced that other girls looked longingly at the divide I entered between them and whomever they lusted over, practically getting sweated on.
For sure they weren’t jealous of the Forever 21 necklace I was sporting, they were jealous of the accomplishment I had.
Why couldn’t I always remember that? even though I was the only unprofessional shooting, I still had some great art I could hand over as a thank you.
And I remembered standing in front of my closet, agonizing about how I looked in those clothes, considering if I needed something new, even though what I wanted I wouldn’t be able to find since I didn’t own it yet already.
It figures that lately I had been on a shopping spree with my mom, pulling clothes out of my closet as I put them in, giving some of my work clothes away to my favorite Mary Kay consultant.
If they’re cool, if they’re new, I will feel more proud of the way I look.
Even though I am going places because of my accomplishments, going there to use my brain instead of my new black skinnies.
Instead of packing my confidence in my heart, I pack my confidence in a flowered carryall -jeans, color, sparkle, shine.
Does it matter? I mean, beyond the business ideas of going to a conference.
Does it matter that you are dressed well? Or that you are well-spoken and have accomplishment written on your bio. Is it the eye contact? The smile? Or that necklace which is sure to elicit a couple glowing comments.
What is it that should make us confident?
And will I end up using my clothes as a bright and shiny shield of confidence, or will I have to find the same place as I did behind the camera?