POSTS WITH TAG: confessional

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    My husband hates the way I dress. What I mean to say is, he likes how I dress after all is said and done. But he hates the process and double-hates the fact that he always feels he needs to change out of his jeans and hooded sweatshirt after I've emerged from our bedroom wearing a pencil skirt and heels to go to dinner at a friend's house. I'm the one at the party who is usually a little more dressed up than everyone else. I consider it blasphemy to wear jeans to a funeral or wake and have owned the same pair of sneakers for seven years -- they're still spotless. My husband jokes and says every day is like prom for me. Maybe. But prom sure beats the grocery store, doesn't it? 

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    I come from a long line of proud cleavage-barers.

    My mom and my grandmother, both of whom grew up in Italy and shared a love of all things Sophia Loren, were delighted by their "ample bosoms," which seems like the best -- and maybe the only -- way to describe your grandma's breasts. They wore and still wear fitted sweaters and low-cut dresses that look like they were ripped out of Sofia Vergara's closet.

    As a child, I thought nothing of the way my mom dressed. She didn't wear mini skirts and didn't resemble Peg Bundy. She just had big boobs and I guess I figured they weren't going anywhere, no matter what she wore. It wasn't until a guy friend commented to me many moons later that the bodysuit (yep, bodysuit) she wore to my Sweet Sixteen was kinda ... hot. That's when I realized there was probably a good reason why I favored turtlenecks and long scarves for so many years.

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    If you're beautiful enough to not only be chosen as a Victoria's Secret model, but as one of their exclusive "angels," chances are pretty good that you possess what is considered a universally accepted type of beauty. A silly statement, I admit, since we all know beauty is in the eye of the beholder, but I'd still place money on the fact that most people would at least consider Brazilian supermodel Alessandra Ambrosio "cute," if not downright stunning. 

    But just because she's snagged a high place on a few hundred "most beautiful" polls in major men's and women's magazines over the years doesn't mean the mom of two feels totally secure with her looks. And it certainly doesn't mean she hasn't had plastic surgery to improve her appearance. The difference here -- and what makes this woman so refreshing -- is that she is at least admitting it. 

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    I haven't gone to the hairdresser ALL YEAR. I know. It's crazy. This is a long time, even for me (it's been a rough year), but it's not that crazy. Even though I write about beauty and fashion, and love getting dressed up and playing with makeup, and do crazy stuff like take beauty products on camping trips, I totally dread going to get my hair done.

    I can kind of get away with it because my hair is basically dark blonde, so when my highlights grow out, it still looks fairly natural, but really, I should get to the salon as least twice a year to maintain the color I like and keep my split ends to a minimum. AT LEAST twice a year. Why don't I?

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    Me. Just kidding. I recently did a massive editing of my clothes. I got it in my head that I wanted to be the kind of person with very few articles of clothing -- only some timeless staples -- and I went for it. Well, the clothes are still sitting in garbage bags in my basement, waiting to be brought to Goodwill, but, for all intents and purposes, I got rid of pretty much all of my clothes. At the time of writing this, I think I have about eight pairs of pants (all of which I wear); a bunch of shirts; a few dresses; and some pajamas and workout clothes. I haven't gotten to my shoes or bags yet, though I don't expect that to be hard. Everything I wear fits, extremely comfortably, in a small closet and a couple of drawers. It's great.

    Except now I don't have anything to wear.

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    Oh that's right, I said it. I took beauty products with me on both of my summer camping trips this year. And I don't care who knows it! (A philosophy that seems to have rubbed off on my daughter; see her camping outfit to the left!)

    I love camping. I love being in the outdoors, I love smelling like campfire smoke, I love the enforced close family time, and most importantly, I love s'mores. I don't even mind skipping a shower for a few days, BUT there are a few things that I really can't live without. Well -- I CAN, but I don't want to!

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    Though I'm probably going to cling to my skinny jeans until I'm a (stylish!) little old lady, I do really like the baggy/boyfriend jean trend that's picking up steam these days. HOWEVER. What I really, really don't like at all is how so many of them come artfully pre-ripped. I get that some people look super cool in torn up jeans, but frankly I would just feel ridiculous!

    I mean, it's one thing if you're a teenager, or if you wear your favorite jeans so much that they actually fade and rip ... but to pay big money for pants with holes? Puh-lease. Take, for example, the pair of jeans shown here...

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    I tend to be a little overly optimistic when I buy shoes. Either that, or I slip into a walking coma half the time and buy shoes for some other, much more glamorous version of myself. A version that is about two inches shorter, doesn't have creaky knees, and is impervious to pain. That's not to say I don't own and wear high heels and impractical footwear. I do. Though I tend to be found in cute but practical shoes most of them time, I really can walk in high heels! But these particular shoes, for whatever reason, are just truly unwearable. And yet, I keep them. I suppose hope really does spring eternal ...

    Do you own shoes you can't actually walk in?

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    I read, write, and research beauty, skincare and health articles on a daily basis, yet I still have some really bad beauty habits. I can partially blame the fact that I'm your average, super busy working mom, but I have to own up that it's also down to plain old laziness. I've never had a lot of trouble with my skin, so I've always been able to get away with a certain amount of laxness. However, as I get older, I know my laziness will catch up with me, for the better you take care of your skin, the happier it is, and the happier your skin is, the better you look! Right?

    So, perhaps by confessing my three biggest, truly awful beauty habits, I will be shamed into stopping them, and maybe inspire you to do a better job than me! Ready?

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    I have a birthmark on the middle of my forehead that I covered up with bangs for most of my life.

    And my ears, well, I joke that they can hear signals from Mars because they stick out so far -- so I keep them firmly hidden under mounds of hair. 

    It only took me until mid-adulthood to realize that I was being completely ridiculous. Don't let it take that long for you.

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