Dress Your Best Week - Day 5: To lean on

Tee: J Crew
Skirt: Target
Belt: Target
Booties: Aldo
Bracelet: gift from A
Earrings: Turkey
Sunnies: Puerto Rico
Hair: courtesy of this tutorial (though I couldn't quite get the video to load, so I improvised.)

I will admit that I had a hard time deciding on the fifth feature to highlight this week. I was torn between my wide hips or my equally wide shoulders, and in the end I decided there's a lot of similarity between hips and thighs, so I decided to go with the shoulders.


I've often said that I have linebacker shoulders. I don't really know what a linebacker does because I prefer my football spelled fútbol, but I've heard they have broad shoulders. I do, too, especially for a woman of my stature. My mother is so tiny up top, with delicate little shoulders. My shoulders, however, come from my dad's side of the family. There is nothing delicate about my shoulders - they're wide and strong.


And while I've often been self-conscious about most of the other features I've talked about this week, I'm strangely proud of these shoulders. So I decided to play them up with a scoop neck top that's just a little ill-fighting in precisely that area - no scarf to draw the eye down, no necklace to serve the same purpose, just me and my shoulders in a simple tee.


Everyone says I look like my dad - la misma cara (the same face) - but I just don't see it. I do see him in these shoulders, my calves, and my bellybutton, though. (Yes, I know the last one is especially weird, but it's totally true.)


And I love that, because I love my daddy. I see him in my penchant for travel, in my work ethic, in my perfectionism (though I've got that coming from both parents), in my love of music, and my need to dream big. I feel like I talk a lot about what I've learned from my mom here on the blog, and she's really taught me a lot - a whole lot - but so has my dad.


My dad taught me to fight for things, that good things are worth making a sacrifice, that sometimes peer pressure works for the best, that I should demand the best treatment in every situation and relationship, and that I should let myself be led while dancing.


So thanks, Daddy, for all those lessons and for these shoulders. Oh, and I didn't drop anything, I just don't like looking at the camera. ;)

Dress Your Best Week - Day 4: Thunder

Jeans: J Crew
Tee: gift from a friend (similar to this one)
Sweater: Banana Republic
Shoes: Sperry
Earrings: Target

First of all, thanks for the support for yesterday's post. I was scared to talk about my chest on the Internet, but apparently I am not alone in that arena, so, again: thanks.
Second, just when you thought I couldn't get any more awkward, let's talk about my thighs, shall we?


I have thick thighs. Even when I was at the lowest weight of my adult life, my thighs were round and heavy. They've been this way for as long as I've had a woman's body, which as we discussed yesterday, came early in my life. And while I haven't always enjoyed it, and while the delightful young men in my 6th and 7th grade PE classes liked to shout "thunder thighs" when I ran past (it wasn't special treatment, they were that nice to all the girls), I've come to appreciate these thighs.


I appreciate them so much that now I wear skinny jeans (drawing attention the the fact that my leg is not a single long line) with a lighter colored top that ends at my widest point (drawing attention to said "flaw"). Because I'm so over rules that don't make me feel more comfortable in my skin.


These thighs, with their round heaviness, connect me to a line of women I love. My mom and my sister have thighs like these. My aunts and cousins do, too. It's in our DNA. There's something that's almost like validation when I see these quirky parts of me and remember that they connect me to the people I love most.


So, I appreciate my thighs today. No, they're not slim, and no, it's not easy to find jeans that fit in the waist and the thigh, but they're a point of connection. They are strong. They are mine.


Are there any parts of your body that make you feel connected to your family? Am I the only weird one?

Dress Your Best Week - Day 3: Ruffles or bust

Top: Ann Taylor (gift from my mom)
Bolero: Ann Taylor
Skirt: Target
Booties: Aldo
Bracelets: gift from my uncle
Earrings: gift from my sister-in-law
Crazy face: not sure...

I feel like I'm pulling out the big guns with Dress Your Best Week this year. It's been harder to make my list, but I feel like it's given me a new and improved appreciation for my body. For today? My chest, and trust me when I say that this post might be the hardest (most awkward?) one for me to write.


I got my first training bra in third grade. Third. Grade. And it was not a "let's make you feel all grown up" kind of training bra experience. It was like a "Hey, mom, people at school are asking if I wear a bra" experience. Next thing I knew, we were at JC Penney's picking out 32AAs. In fifth grade, I was the only girl who had to wear a bra every day (and my mom told me it had to be EVERY DAY) which meant I got "plinkied" every time we had a bathroom break. Plinkies were when the other kids snapped the back strap. It was awesome.


By "awesome", I mean "mortifying", of course. Naturally, I was self-conscious because I was a kid who didn't know what to make of her body. As I got older, there were all kinds of rules about what I could and couldn't wear thanks to all I had going on in the front. No tank tops, definitely no spaghetti straps, cardigans or jackets to cover me up, no scoop necks, few v-necks, nothing with an empire waist, no tops with writing across the front, avoid embellishment across the bust, no woven button-up shirts...


That's a lot of rules, especially for a high school kid, which is what I was at the time. Some of those were my parents' rules and some were my own, but it pretty much guaranteed that I had no idea what to do with my top half. I'll readily admit that these days, I'm much more comfortable covering up, but at the time, I felt awkward and ashamed. I mean, I didn't ask for what I had, right?


But I feel like these days I finally have perspective on my chest. For one, I'm just below the national average, which makes me feel way better about my options. For another, I've stopped fighting it. This is the body I have, the only one I have, and I've got a chest that women will literally pay money for. So I thank the sweet Lord for what I've got and move on.


And I'll just go ahead and put some ruffles on 'em to make up for lost time.

Dress Your Best Week - Day 2: Thick skin

Tee: Target (men's undershirt)
Skirt: J Crew
Belt: Banana Republic
Scarf: gift from my uncles
Booties: Aldo
Bracelet: gift from our intern, A
Earrings: Turkey

Today, I'm celebrating my skin. This is a big step for me because I have not loved my skin for most of my life. This is another one of the things that I have learned to love about myself, mostly because it does its job. Skin is important, y'all.


So, when we moved to the States, Oprah taught my mom English. What I mean by that is that my mom watched Oprah to learn English. I thought Oprah was the most beautiful woman in the world, and I was pretty sure that in order to be beautiful, I had to be a lot darker than I was.


By the time I got to high school, I'd get a lot of "Aren't Puerto Ricans supposed to be darker?" comments. And though I knew - I know - that we come in a variety of shades, I felt like I was lacking. I was jealous of my sister's caramel tone, and I hid my skin, especially my legs, for many years because of their whiteness.


I don't know when things changed, when I got over the hiding and started showing off my skin and really caring for it - because it is seriously dry and flaky no matter how much cocoa butter I rub into it. I've been embracing my skin, though, in all it's (relatively) pale glory. I'm thankful that I can wear colors like green and yellow and orange. I'm thankful that jewel tones pop against my skin. I'm thankful that I rarely burn out in the sun, and that if I do, it turns to a tan the very next day. I'm thankful that white shows off my tan when I've got one and that I look good in black whether I'm tanned or not.


This is my skin. I'm finally okay with it.

Friend Friday - Body Image

Hey y'all! I know I've been totally MIA this week, and I apologize. I got back from PR on Sunday and went directly to a meeting, and have been running non stop pretty much since. Seven day work weeks and I are not friends. I'm also not friends with six day work weeks.... Anyway, I did manage to carve out a bit of time for this week's Friend Friday post because it's a topic I can really identify with.

Body Image


1. Since you started blogging has your image of yourself changed?
Yes. Make that a resounding yes. I started this blog because of my body image issues, kind of as a way to gain a better perspective of myself. I feel like there's a huge difference between my brain-mirror connection and my brain-photo connection and my brain-photo connection is much healthier. I find that as I've been blogging, I've been able to get that brain-photo connection in a lot of my mirror interactions. I'm seeing the beauty of my body in new ways because I'm more attuned to it. My body is no longer this passive thing, it's something I look at and think about more often. Does that even make sense?

2. Are you self-conscious about any aspect of yourself? If so, do you go out of your way to avoid it or do you post it/talk about it anyway?
Of course I'm self-conscious about certain aspects of myself. I don't go out of my way to avoid them, but neither do I go out of my way to post about it. I have posted about some aspects of my body that took me time to love (my hair, my booty, and my legs) and I've also posted about the disconnect I feel between my brain and my body, but I don't really seek out those types of posts. Maybe I should, though....

3. Based on how you are feeling now, what do you think the future holds in the evolution of your body image?
I think I'm still working on embracing my body as a whole. I mean, I've come a long way and I'm still flying high from a week in Puerto Rico where my grandmother and my aunts told me I have great legs, great hips, a nice booty (cultural standards of beauty are so different there, btw). Even so, I am terribly self conscious when it comes to my (relatively) light skin and my belly. There, I said it. But I'm working on that.
Also, I have weird toes. Actually, everyone has weird toes. Feet are ugly and that's why there are shoes, the end.

4. Do you photograph yourself for your blog? If so, how do you feel about the experience when you're having your picture taken? If you choose not to post pictures of yourself, what prompted that decision?
How I feel depends on the day I'm having. Sometimes I have a lot of fun with it. Other days, I'm all like, "Stop hunching your shoulders like that Frances Joy; you look like a vulture". My aim is to feel like a rock star as often as possible and as long as I'm comfortable in my outfit and there aren't many people watching my photo sesh, I feel pretty awesome.


5. What would you want every person who struggles with body image to take to heart?
I have a hard time with this question because I hate getting pat answers to hard issues. So here's my round about answer:
I feel like I had the most body image issues when I was in middle school and couldn't figure out what was going on with the boobs and the hips and why aren't any of the other girls wearing C cups? And then, my nice, rich, suburban middle school was full of boys who apparently couldn't shut up about the girls in their gym class and were also way too interested in my body for my liking. My body didn't feel like it belonged to me. And for a long time, that feeling persisted. My body was separate from me somehow, and worse than that, it was almost as if it was okay for everyone to comment on it and criticize it. The ladies at church, classmates, guys on the street, students, you name it, they were talking about my body.
And then, I started working out. It was less about losing weight and more about seeing what my body could do. I was amazed by it. I could jump and do crunches and lift weights like whoa. And I started noticing all the little every day things that my body could do, too. My legs and feet helped me to circulate in my classroom. My arms helped me carry heavy piles of copies. My mouth and voice helped me to communicate. My shoulders helped me to clear a path in crowded areas. This was my body and I couldn't survive without it. It belonged to me, first and foremost. It does so much work for me: breathing, thinking, blood circulating work and it's the only one I've got, designed this way on purpose.
So yeah: Your body is yours, it works - in some areas better than others, but it's the reason you're alive, and that alone is an amazing thing.


Check out more thoughts over at ModlyChic.

On ballet flats and bodies

Green cardi: Banana Republic (remixed)
Black shirt dress: Target (remixed)
Brown woven belt: Target (remixed)
Patterned green ballet flats: Banana Republic Factory Store
Green chandelier earrings: gift from a friend in Guatemala
Black beaded bracelet: gift from my uncle (remixed)
Phantom circle in the middle of the shot: ????

This outfit came together almost by accident. I knew I was going to wear this dress mostly because I didn't want to think about clothes today, but the cardi and the shoes that really MAKE the outfit were afterthoughts.


I have to say, I'm pretty pleased, although these shoes are CRAZY UNCOMFORTABLE!!! I have to stop buying flats from BR, because they inevitably tear up the backs of my feet, as you can tell from the preponderance of moleskin in this pic.


I like the crisp and elegant combination of black and kelly green and the unexpected touch of brown thrown in. I was also digging the collar popping up over the neck of this cardigan.


I swear, Kiku is not growling. She was just jumping on and off of my lap because she was so excited to have me at her level.


I felt like a cross between a school girl from the 1950s - except with a much narrower skirt - and a ballerina all day. I blame the shoes and the cardigan.

I have to admit that I was a bit disappointed in myself for pulling out this black dress, because I was doing so well with avoiding black. That said, that bright cardigan really kicks it up; it's hard to feel down when you're wearing such a delicious color.

The kids seem to know that green is my favorite color every time I wear it. Must be that it puts a spring in my step.


Also, these braids make me happy. I haven't done my hair like this in quite a while and I like it.

So, B. and I went to our salsa class tonight. One of the students brought her daughter who's a dancer, like for real. Our salsa classes are kinda, down home, old-school Puerto Rican, ready for a party on the marquesina salsa classes as opposed to more ballroom style salsa with fancy dance terms. I couldn't tell you for the life of me what a ball change is, but we dance.

Anyway, this girl was a ballroom style dancer. She did fancy steps and styling, which is when the women do completely unnecessary hand movements just because they're pretty. I feel insanely awkward doing any kind of styling because it draws attention to me, and I'd much rather blend into the crowd. This girl, however, moved with a confidence that belied her youth and the connection she has to her body. And as I was watching, I kept thinking about how I've come to connect my brains and my adulthood with covering up.



There's this idea that smart women, good girls, keep themselves covered up. And I started realizing how much I believe this during Dress Your Best Week when I struggled with celebrating my body. Once I got past that terribly awkward phase we all hit between about eight and ten years old, people started telling me I was pretty. And I started moving a lot, so I was the pretty new girl. What I wanted, though, was to be recognized for my mind and my mouth. I wanted the things I said to matter, and in order for them to matter, I had to be "more than" the pretty girl. So I put on more clothes. I wore men's jeans, stole my father's shirts, and wore long skirts. Even now, when I wear things that flatter my body, I try to keep things pretty covered up.



Part of that is related to the nature of my job. I teach high school, there are lots of hormonal little boys in my classroom, and out of respect for them, I try not to show off my body too much. Part of that is my own comfort level, which is related both to my faith and my feminist leanings; I just can't take myself seriously when my shirts are too low cut, especially when skimpy spaghetti straps are involved.



But there's another part of me that's wondering if it's just that I'm not all that comfortable in this body. That I've been hiding behind brains and belief and cutting myself off from the pure physicality of my life. Does that make sense?
When I'm getting dressed, I'm saying I'm intelligent, professional, educated, creative, traditional, liberal.... I'm saying a lot of things, but not a one of those things is that I have a body that moves and works and is necessary for me to say everything I want to say. I mean, at least not consciously.

And I'm not sure that I've completely sorted this all out, but today, tomorrow, this week, I want to be more conscious of my body. Of the things it does, of the necessity of what it purely physical. I think I do pretty well with not separating my life into the sacred and the mundane; I don't think of my "spiritual life" and my "secular life" if that makes any sense. That said, I don't do so well at bringing together the brains with the beauty, or at least, I'm bad at celebrating them together. Maybe if I get to that point, I'll be able to dance like that girl, celebrating my body without feeling so terribly self-conscious.

Dress Your Best Week - Day 5 - The Collarbone

Black dress: Target
Black cami: Target (not seen)
Pearl chandelier earrings: Target
Fuchsia suede flower flats: Target
"Pearl" necklace worn as a bracelet: borrowed from my mom in December - Sorry mom!

It's the final official day of Dress Your Best Week and I'm highlighting my collarbone. This is kind of a funny outfit for highlighting the collar bone, since the neckline is relatively high, but I like the way it really frames my clavicle. I slipped it on this morning and thought, yes.


Also, I want to give a shout out to Target for clothing me today and many other days. Y'all should pay me. (I swear the All Target outfit was unintentional.)


Anyway, one of the things I liked about this look was that it's pretty covered up, but my collarbone peeking out just above the neckline is so subtly sexy.

And the detail on the bodice? It really just draws the eye to the clavicle, doesn't it?


I don't know that I ever had a real revelation about my collarbone, not like my legs or my booty or my hair or even my eyes. This is one area I've always found pretty, and dressing it up has never been a real problem.



But here's the thing, one of the reasons I started this blog was to help me love my body just a bit more. I'm generally secure about my body, but I go through these phases - and I'm sure I'm not alone in this - where nothing looks right, I have nothing to wear, and oh. my. gosh. when did I gain this weight?! And then I'm all gloom and doom about my tummy or my upper thighs or my weirdo pinky toe that never touches the ground.
The blog has been helping me to see my beauty every day. I'm going to go ahead and say that without offering a qualifier or apologizing for sounding conceited, because this week I am owning this body and love, love, loving it for all the things it does. I will not lie, finding five body parts to highlight was a bit of a challenge, but as this week has gone on, I've been noticing other things I like.


There're my strong fingernails which grow long even though I rarely do anything to them. My triceps seem to miraculously hold on to a bit of definition, even when I slack on my workouts. I have a pretty nice rack. My cheekbones are enviable. I have lips that some women would pay money to have. My wrists are delicate and slim. I love my ability to tan (yeah, yeah, I know).
This body is beautiful. It's a testament to form and function, to nature and nurture. I'm often amazed thinking about everything - all those processes that allow me to move, to think, to breathe. This body works beautifully. I'm constantly relearning to be grateful for it. This week I have not pinched my midsection in shame. I have not once thought about the parts I often try to camouflage. This week has been about appreciation for the practical things my body does and the ways in which it's just plain pretty. And my gosh, how wonderful is it when those two things combine.


I try not to talk smack about other women. Not that I never do, just that when I catch myself doing it, I stop immediately. I don't want to bring down my sisters - is that weird? Is it weirder to blame it on the fact that I went to a women's college (which is now coed)? The whole idea of sisterhood is one that I take pretty seriously. But I have struggled much more with applying that to myself. It's been okay to bash my own body. And in a way, I think it's one of those things we, as women, are almost trained to do. After all, if we don't talk badly about ourselves, people will think we're conceited; no one likes girls who brag.
So this is my challenge to myself: be a woman no one likes. I'm going to brag a bit about myself. There's more to me that I want to bring out and appreciate. Yes, I love my mind and my wit and my empathy, but those are the parts of me that I am used to celebrating. It's okay to celebrate those things, because they mean I'm a good girl, a smart girl.
I'm gonna go ahead and be a little bit bad; I'm going to celebrate my body. This woman's body that is beautiful and functional - a work of art.