If I had a pound for every time I heard that, I’d be able to jump on the next plane to the Caribbean and avoid any more misinterpretations of this apparent self vanity I possess. The assumption that every blogger who photographs their personal style for the world to see holds this palpable, narcissistic confidence couldn’t be further from the truth. Or so I certainly think so in my shoes (no pun intended).
I’ve struggled with self-esteem issues most of my life and that often takes an affect in my daily thought process. It doesn’t matter how many times I’m told I look fine and am given warming compliments, I will look in the mirror, be unsatisfied with every inch of what I see and continue to complain about how dull my skin’s looking, how huge my legs appear, how flat my hair falls (and so on, and so on). However, what I will be almost always pleased with, is the choice of clothing I’ve chose to dress in that morning. I’m the first to give myself a one sided hi-five when I create a top notch outfit as I venture into my distinctive sartorial appearance and that probably is shown in the way I present myself as I prepare to face the day ahead.
Fashion for me is an escape route, an essence to hide behind when the rest of me wants to scream. Nothing makes me happier, more energised and refreshed than updating my wardrobe and finding a piece that suits me right down to my soul. Discovering a flattering technique doesn’t mean I’m no longer body and face conscious, it means I’m enjoying evolving my inner passion of fashion and it provides me with this new found urge to work and focus on me and my flaws. I don’t choose to go out and photograph my tailored torso because I’m an egotistic person (my sheer nitty picking and close to crying behaviour when I’m recapping on the photos taken will tell you so), I do it because I’m intrigued in the topic, sharing style, being influenced by the individuality of others and taking pride in what they have to say.
Receiving comments from both my close ones, and the general public on how I’m supposed to view my perception of myself becomes irritating after an encounter of shrugging and biting my tongue. “How can you hate yourself if you pose for pictures like that”, “You can’t think that worse of yourself when you’re always dressed up”, “Stop moaning for attention”. Truth is, my inner style guru is undoubtedly more assertive than I ever will be. I am like a different person when I get into the zone, I can strut my stuff as though I’m a VS model and can even handle the hassling horn beeping but that’s because fashion gives me power and control. I do almost forget about my modesty issues and my body worries when I’m excited to share a designed ensemble. If I feel pretty, I’ll reflect on that rapidly (and probably reuse the photo for every social media profile I behold) but guess what? If I feel rubbish, I will also most likely scrub myself down to the ground. No matter what the circumstance, you can’t jump to conclusions that I’m far up my own a*se and you definitely can’t define me by the edited photos I share online. I’m sure we all struggle with self-acceptance, even those who are in the public eye constantly and have a fashion-based career. It’s like saying just because a chef cooks, he or she has to love every kind of food.
NOT that I have to elaborate or explain myself to those around me, if I want to show some self-love I will do without issue but don’t tell me I’m lying when I feel I need to let all my negativity out, too. Shaming whatever the situation means you can’t win either way. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with admiring and embracing who you are, I find it super empowering and inspiring when someone is 100% comfortable in their own body. What I’m trying to say is, I’m not at that stage – even if it seems otherwise by the fractional fragments I feature on my blog. I rarely take selfies because I can never find the right angle, I like to snuggle up in sweaters with a lack of glamour, I fail at contouring like a pro and pick faults in everything I do but I’m a person who finds a topic they’re dedicated to, who tackles the encounter and develops that passion – and being a fashion blogger does just that. I don’t love myself, I love what showing off my poise allows me to become.
Do you feel the same way I do? Do you experience any prejudice towards the trademark ‘fashion blogger’ name?