Dressing Down
This isn't just a change of image. I'm tired. Honestly, I think a lot of women are tired. Tired of sucking our stomachs in for photos. Tired of pretending a bra is a necessary part of our attire. Tired of spending half our lives adjusting straps, checking mirrors, touching up lipstick, and smoothing out those fly-away hairs that never seem to settle. At some point, you just think, "You know what? I can't be bothered." So bring out the caftans, the keffiyehs, the abayas, and the elasticated pants. Burn the bras. Snip the thongs. Tie the hair back. Anything synthetic that clings, pinches, rides up, or requires instructions can eff off. I'm choosing bare feet or flip-flops, Uggs or takkies, because my fascia is acting up and I'm tired of cramps. And can we talk about comfort? I'm all for bare faces and cheeky bare bottoms. I am not doing a twelve-step skincare routine. I barely have the patience for two steps. Wash. Moisturize. Done. No more contouring,...