There are two kinds of bloggers out there: the kind who have goals and a media kit - and the other kind, the kind who have to Google "what is a media kit?" when someone reaches out to them for a sponsored post and -- well, actually, first they have to head on over to the blogging forum and ask, "Hey guys, how do I handle a sponsored post? So-and-so is reaching out to me and I don't know what to do", and someone says, "send them your media kit".
I still don't really understand what a media kit is. But that's okay, because it sounds a little more "professional" than what I am currently set up for.
Around the middle of October, I was playing around with this new blogger site that I found called Canva (game changer, by the way) that allows you to make graphics and banners and all of the professional-looking-images that you see the professional-looking-bloggers have.
I got really excited. I felt like I'd stumbled into "the big secret" that all of the professional bloggers already know. I found a fancy graphic site that is going to CHANGE EVERYTHING...
My parents sent me a stun gun as part of a care package in college.
I figured I should open with that, so that when I say, “I found my stun gun in a shoe box in the back of my closet over the weekend” – ya’ll don’t think I’m the kind of girl who:
A) knows where to buy a stun gun, and -
B) keeps it in a shoe box in the back of her closet. Nestled next to a scarf and a pair of high heels.
Because that’s where it was. Who knows why. Who packed that box when I was moving?
Me. I packed it. I packed all of my boxes. And when I ran across that stun gun, I was probably like, “Well, I don’t have a box marked ‘Weapons’ …. sooo let’s just put it in this shoe box. That should be fine.”
That makes about as much sense me having a stun gun in the first place...
I'm searching for a new purse, "for winter". A black chainlink cross-body purse, to be exact. I don't know what winter has to do with it - but I saw some girl in a movie wearing a grey peacoat with a black chainlink cross-body purse and big sunglasses, and I was like "That's it! THAT'S what I want to look like this winter!"
I don't know where this comes from. I don't know why I see a random stranger in a made-for-tv movie and think that I have to change up my entire look for a season. It just happens. It happened with Peyton Sawyer on One Tree Hill when I suddenly decided I needed a leather jacket. It happened with Serena Van Der Woodsen on Gossip Girl when I decided that my "new style" should be "boho chic New Yorker-y". It's even happened with YouTubers. After watching two hours of Carly Cristman videos, I committed to only wearing neutral colors for a year. A WHOLE YEAR.
My entire wardrobe has been decided by fictional characters and people that I've never met in real life. That's probably normal, right?
My mom used to have these Halloween-inspired window clings that she let me bust out every October. Stickers of ghosts, witches, pumpkins - I think one of them said Happy Halloween? Probably? Every October she'd pull them out of her "Holiday Decorations" bin and let me stick them onto the glass door leading out to the deck. I loved it. This - aside from the in-school Halloween parties where the teachers handed out candy and we got to play games all afternoon - was my favorite part of Halloween.
I mean, I was like seven. The majority of highlights at that age were: candy, that giant parachute thing they let us play with during gym class, and stickers. It's the little things.
I told my mom I wanted to start hanging them in the giant full-story window in the front of the house. "There's more space," I said. "It's going to look so pretty!" I said. And I'm pretty sure if I'd had a more pronounced vocabulary at that age, I would have said, "It's going to be so festive! It's FALL! Let's decorate for FALL!!!!"
So, for the record, that is who you're taking advice from. Someone whose Fall decor once consisted of the desire to stick glass cling-ons of witches and pumpkins to the front of her house. Because she thought they were, like, "so pretty".
If I had to define my personal style, I would call it: "Target Women's Section".
Do you know what I mean? When you see a woman walking down the street and think to yourself, "She totally bought that at Target".
Yea, that's me. I'm the woman. 2/3 of my closet is made up of the women's section from the store. (I mean, they're RIGHT THERE. In the front of the store. As soon as you walk in.)
Notice how the men's section is always squeezed into a back corner? But not the women's section. Oh, NO. Let's put that right next to the entrance, so that all of the women who think they're only coming in here for groceries and toilet paper will walk by and say, "Oh THAT'S cute.... well, I mean, while I'm in here... it doesn't hurt to LOOK at the clothes..."
Well, it DOESN'T hurt to look, right?
I wouldn't say that I have "anxiety" about wearing Spanx (and honestly, no one SHOULD have anxiety about wearing a brand of sucky-in-y underwear - because that's essentially all they are) but I HAVE noticed that when I'm wearing a tight dress, along with - what is essentially a modern day girdle - I feel, a little.... well, anxious. Stiff. Uncomfortable. There's a tightness in my chest.../abdomen.
I mean, most of that is the sucky-in-y part of the underwear that I paid $50 to literally wedge myself into so that I could look good in a dress for a few hours, but you know what I mean. I worry. The Spanx alter blood circulation to my brain (probably, I don't know. You'd think they've got to be cutting off some circulation around my torso. Otherwise, are they even doing their job?) My inner fat girl that needed the Spanx in the first place starts sending paranoid, worried signals to my brain.
"What if people can tell?" I think. "Can people tell that I'm wearing a girdle?"
I honestly do not know how anyone would ever be able to "tell", unless they came over and lifted up my dress and said, "Hey I see you're wearing some funny underwear under there." And if someone ever does that to you, I can PROMISE you that the the highlight of that story will not be "I was wearing Spanx", it will be "A stranger lifted up my dress. It was weird."
I believe it was Oscar Wilde who said, "Do not fall in love with a man who doesn't make you feel like the most awesome, incredible, baddest bitch on the block."... those of course weren't his exact words, but the sentiment was the same. You know what else can make you feel that way? A leather jacket.
Seriously. I can be wearing sweatpants, and still feel like a stylish badass biker babe if I've got a leather jacket on. (I have never been on a bike - and by "bike", I of course mean motorcycle - so I don't know what that really feels like, but this is the only way I can know how to describe it.) It's like magic. While sweatpants in public say, "I can't get my life together", a leather jacket says, "This is OBVIOUSLY a style choice. And if you don't get it, then you're not as cool as I am."