This summer, though, I've been warming up to the idea of just a sliver of skin. While we were in Floyd, we had the opportunity to attend a music festival at a local winery. And if a music festival at a local winery doesn't just scream "exposed midriff" I don't know what does.
I could edit this post to say I got dressed and felt fabulous, but really I spent 25 minutes going back and forth, getting snappy, and finally through tear-filled eyes whining "I just don't feel pretty..." In hindsight, it was a hormonal breakdown and I can't be held responsible for my actions. Taylor did a great job of diffusing the situation (as for hiding his dismay at my quickly deteriorating mental state... not so much.)
[details, details: top-J. Crew skirt-J. Crew Factory Sunnies-Ray Ban Sandals-Report]When I look at these happy pictures, it's hard to believe that's the same girl that was staring back at me in the mirror that morning... frustrated, angry, and tired. I do this a lot. I get hung up on something, I get trapped inside my head. The view from the mirror that morning and the view from my camera that afternoon tell two different stories. And both hold some truth. But you can't get hung up on one point-of-view. I wonder sometimes, when I'm having a bad day, how long it will be before I look back on this time with fondness and think, "those were my salad days..." Sooner than later, my friends. Sooner than later.
Perspective.I would make a terrible style blogger.