June Giveaway - Win a TIKKR watch and extra band!

One of the highlights of attending the Texas Style Council Conference back in March was the amazing TIKKR watch given to all attendees. I absolutely love mine, and wanted to share my love with you!

The winner of this giveaway will receive a TIKKR watch with both a white and a pink band!

To enter, simply do the following:

• Follow my blog through Google Friend Connect;
• and leave a comment at the end of this post with your email address! Comments left without a valid email will not be counted as entries.
• For an *extra* entry, follow me on Twitter @dresscourage and tweet the following about the giveaway: I just entered the TIKKR watch giveaway from @dresscourage! http://tinyurl.com/3qvjetk 

Good luck! The winner will be chosen on June 25th!

Outfit Post: The tyranny of the "bikini body"

Memorial Day weekend, 1981: I am seven years old. My parents are hosting a barbecue and have invited my grandparents, aunts and uncles, cousins, and neighborhood friends. The air smells like roasting barbecue briquettes, daylilies, freshly cut grass and hot dogs.The rhythmic spurt-spurt-spurt of the sprinkler permeates the air. I am wearing an enticing two-piece yellow terry cloth bikini which ties around my neck, and my cousins and I shriek as we run through the needle-sharp spray of the sprinkler. My waist-long hair drips water down my back. I feel happy, unencumbered and free.

Flash forward to Memorial Day weekend, present day: I am 36 years old. My husband and three children chatter excitedly about going to the neighborhood pool. I have zero desire to go to the pool, because going to the pool means wearing my swimsuit in public. I stand in front of my dresser and try to calm myself down. I try on two-piece after two-piece, self-esteem plummeting in the process. Swimsuits lie tangled on the floor. My thighs seem to expand with each selection. My body takes up too much space. I am flabby and fat and all-together unacceptable. I feel like a failure.

Every summer, I go through the exact same ritual. I become obsessively focused on the notion of the perfect bikini body, an entity I am certain every woman possesses except for myself. The NY Times recently ran an article exploring the notion of the bikini body, examining the effect it has on fear-inspired marketing campaigns and as a symbol of physical perfection.

There's no way of figuring out when the phrase "bikini body" was first uttered or when its tyranny took hold. It's common knowledge that the two-piece as we know it was invented in 1946 by engineer Louis Réard who christened it after Bikini Atoll. The style became popular in the 50's and by the 80's was standard beachwear. As our culture increasingly enshrines physical perfection, the bikini has come to inspire dread and awe. It wasn’t always so. In the 1960s, when bellybutton-baring suits first became popular in America, “it was a youthful phenomenon definitely,” said Sarah Kennedy, the author of “The Swimsuit: A History of Twentieth-Century Fashions.” Then the high-fashion set and movie stars began to put on bikinis, and by the ’70s, she said, the bikini was “worn by all ages.”

And a few extra pounds didn’t disqualify anyone, considering the fitness revolution was still roughly a decade away. (The NY Times mentions that in the book there’s a 1940s photograph of a fresh-faced still-brunet Marilyn Monroe looking smashing in a two-piece, a roll of pale flesh at her midsection.)

Writes The Guardian's Laurie Penny:

When it finally became popular in the 1960s, the bikini was a symbol of physical liberation, of beautiful women reacting to the stern sexual prudery of previous decades by exposing as much skin to the sun as they pleased. Today, as with many iterations of the sexual emancipation rhetoric of the 1960s, wearing a bikini is no longer associated with pleasure and daring, but with anxiety, dieting rituals and joyless physical performance...The bikini body has become cultural shorthand for a moral standard of female perfection whereby any physical flaw should be regarded as a source of shame, an obstacle to collective fantasies of glamour and happiness.

When did  the bikini become the standard of all beauty? I'm going to theorize that the first Sports Illustrated swimsuit issues, published in 1964, had a lot to do with it. With that publication, swimsuits became explicitly linked with the standards of female desirability. Also, the Swimsuit Issue is published in the winter and had little to do with the reality of actual women being at the beach, let alone swimming, and a lot to do with unattainable goals.

"Bikini body" is the going code for "acceptable." It is always in bikinis that the tabloids feature the "best" and "worst" bodies. Type "bikini body" into Google and you get the following suggested searches:

bikini body workout
bikini body diet
bikini body tips
bikini body fast
quick bikini body

The bikini body has nothing to do with overall health, or fitness, or lifestyle. No, it's about shedding "winter weight" fast, before some arbitrary deadline known as "Bikini Season," at which point we're forced to confront a two-piece suit with, naturally, the requisite "bikini wax," and no trace of cold-weather pastyness. Jezebel argues that the "bikini body" craze goes so much deeper than fatism or fatphobia. It is part of our society's relentless insistence that a woman's body is not her own. It is an object to be criticized.  Our society seems to think that a woman wears a bikini not for herself, but for the public to decide her worthiness.

Will the world end tomorrow if I can't cram my butt into a bikini? I was going to ask Stephen Hawking, but, after some careful mathematical calculations, I was able to come up with the answer on my own: No. Does this mean that I still don't have days where I hate my thighs and stomach so much I want to carve them off of my body with a fillet knife? No. But I understand that those days will happen and that they really don't matter because there truly is NOTHING wrong with my body. I've put it through a lot in the past 36 years and it's stuck around and carried me through everything.

So my motto is this: Just be healthy. Eat things that are nutritionally good for you and exercise, but don't forget about delicious, delicious baked goods and gelato from Pacuigo. Don't deprive yourself of things to satisfy the warped and nonsensical views of people that see you as another bottomless pocket and empty head. 

Do what you want, eat what you want, wear what you want, and be who you want.

Now I ask you: How you deal with the pressure of the "bikini body?" Does wearing a swimsuit in public make you break out in a sweat? Do you avoid going to the beach, pool or lake because of this fear? Does wearing a swimsuit cause you to dread summer activities? And do you have a favorite swimsuit that makes you feel great about yourself?

Thrifted Gap chambray shirt: thrifted vintage dress; Old Navy belt; White Mountain sandals; TIKKR watch; Charming Charlie bracelet; Forever 21 necklace

Outfit Post: The labels we wear on the inside

This past Saturday night I went to see the Black Angels with Erin of Work With What You've Got. It was loud, and hot, and the audience was at capacity with bearded and ponytailed twenty-something hipsters in black concert tees, skinny jeans and Chucks. The venue smelled like beer and pot and cigarettes and a million other unidentifiable odors. I wore a fetching ensemble composed of a Forever 21 hot-pink leopard sports bra under a lace trapeze top, paired with a thrifted vintage black skirt and black leather platform sandals. With my tattoos and bright red hair, I thought I blended in pretty well, despite the fifteen year-age difference between me and the rest of the crowd. After five hours of talking and singing and yelling and dancing and people-watching, I eventually crawled home after one o'clock in the morning. All in all, it was a fantastic night.

However, on Sunday morning I was in serious pain. I couldn't hear out of my left ear. My throat was raw. My head ached something fierce. And my feet were sore from hours spent in those platforms (which I wore despite warnings from my husband that they'd make me a cripple before the night was over. Okay, husband, you were right. There, I said it.) I spent most of the day popping Advil and lying on the couch curled in a fetal position.

In the wake of my post-concert trauma, I started to question whether I should have attended the event in the first place. I wondered about the condition of the other concert-goers the next morning. Were they suffering from pounding headaches and sore throats? Did their feet hurt? And the came the inevitable questions: Was I too old to have been there? Did I look ridiculous? Were my days of late nights behind me? Did I belong at home, watching depressing sitcoms on CBS and clipping coupons for things like Sunsweet prunes?

While pondering these questions, I was reminded of a recent post on Psychology Today about the internal labels we carry. The author explored the life-long struggle many of us have to shake off the limits we think define us. Often these labels have been internalized for years, and the fight against them can feel like a never-ending challenge.

Reading this article led to some fairly deep introspection. I mentally flipped through ways I label myself.

"You're too old to stay up until all hours."
"You're too fat to wear those skinny jeans."
"You can't shop in that store."
"You're not talented enough to be a writer."
"You can't make a long road trip by yourself."
"You're not stylish/cool/youthful enough to wear that outfit."
"You're not fit enough to run a 10k."
"You shouldn't leave the house without make-up."

Labels have a way of sticking around. Often they've been adopted following a traumatic event or conversation with an important person in your life. My mother was a strict enforcer of rules, and I grew up believing that there were certain things I just couldn't do because they were inappropriate, unbecoming or unladylike. That included wearing certain types of clothes, staying out late, or even going places alone. Growing up with such strict limits also discouraged me from even trying to challenge them - why have hope when I'm just going to fail? The defeatist, pessimistic nature of labels keeps us confined and crippled by self-doubt and insecurity. Criticism from a boss, close friend, or teacher can also reinforce the ways we label ourselves. Sometimes it only takes the slightest reminder to trigger our biggest fears and doubts.

Thankfully, I'm determined to challenge the ways I label myself. Despite the fears that I was going to look redonk, I wore that neon leopard bra. I danced and sang at the top of my lungs and stayed out late. And I had a fantastic time. My morning after guilt is inevitable after challenging myself, but it's no excuse for me to continue to abide by labels.

Do you believe that you have internalized labels that limit yourself from being who you are? What are some ways you label yourself? Are there things you believe you just can't or shouldn't do? What do you do to challenge these labels?

Thrifted Target tuxedo jacket; Forever 21 lace tank; Forever 21 sports bra; thrifted vintage skirt; White Mountain sandals; thrifted vintage Coach satchel; TIKKR watch; Forever 21 rhinestone bracelets

Outfit Post: In which I wear a miniskirt, and commit a hideous fashion crime.

I am wearing a miniskirt today. I'm warning you at the beginning of this post in order to give you a moment to avert your eyes, and introduce the following: If you're over 35, a recent survey out of Britain reveals that no one wants to see you in a miniskirt. Period.

Yesterday my attention was directed towards a delightfully insane little survey regarding age-appropriate dressing, recently published in the Daily Mail (or the Daily Fail, as I prefer to call it.) If the results are to be believed, women over the age of 35 are committing fashion suicide if caught wearing a miniskirt. Quell horror! The study polled 2,000 women age 18 to 65 and found that "mini-skirts are a 'no-no' on anyone aged 35 or more," along with a slew of other cutoff dates, like no bikinis over 47 (unless you're Helen Mirren - when you look like this in a two-piece, you can do whatever the heck you please), no high heels over 51, and no leggings after 45. I might also mention that a similar study was covered by the Daily Mail back in 2007, though that study concurred that women over 28 are the perpetrators of fashion crimes. Apparently we've progressed a bit since then.

Caron Leckie, a nutritionist for Diet Chef (some sort of prepared-meals diet site, which sponsored the survey) told the Daily Mail, "It's up to individuals to choose when they should stop wearing certain items...Saying that, everyone wants to look the best they can and now is the prime time to get in shape for summer." Ugh. *eye roll* Leave it to a diet company to conduct a poll that has no other purpose than to make women feel worse about themselves.

Here's the full list of specific article of attire along with corresponding cut-off age:

* Bikini: 47
* Mini skirt: 35
* Stilettos: 51
* Belly button piercing: 35
* Knee high boots: 47
* Trainers: 44
* Leather trousers: 34
* Leggings: 45
* Ugg boots: 45
* Swimsuit: 61
* Tight vest: 44
* See-through chiffon blouse: 40
* Long hair: 53
* Ponytail: 51

Good lord. I audibly recoil at the mere thought of arbitrary rules restricting how women choose to dress and present themselves to the world. It's my belief that surveys like these play into the notion that women should cover up once they hit a certain number, as if a 34-year-old can rock a miniskirt like nobody's business, only to turn into a hideous freak the day she turns 35. They state nothing about the value individual choice plays into fashion; how a woman decides which silhouettes are flattering to her shape; and how fashion makes you feel.

Furthermore, these types of surveys reinforce the notion that women must have a mantra when deciding how to get dressed. The "no white after labor Day; no bared arms after forty" rules serve to limit and remind us that there are things we just shouldn't do. Women generations before us internalized these rules and bought clothes to abide by them. Dressing by the rules might have been an integral part of societal norms, but women may have missed out on wearing something they truly loved as a result.

Helen Mirren's famous bikini photos, and 47 year-old model Kristen McNemany's recent swimsuit shoot, demonstrate that the only thing that should influence a woman's choice in fashion is her self-esteem.When it comes to "age appropriate" clothing, perhaps it's not so much about numbers as it is about one's own confidence and ability to pull off trends and styles without looking like they are trying to be anything but themselves. This subject is so tricky that I actually tackled it before in a post back in March, though that was a more generalized discussion about dressing to stay young and not about avoiding specific articles of clothing. The Sartorialist blogger Scott Schuman once stated: "I don't believe in age-appropriate dressing. I believe in spirit-appropriate dressing."

What do you think? Any cut-off age that you particularly agree or disagree with? At what age will you stop wearing a miniskirt? Do you ever feel like your age prevents you from wearing something you want to? Discuss!

(Have you entered my giveaway for a gift bag and new bronzing products from The Body Shop? Enter here!)

Forever 21 striped tee; Anthropologie skirt; Gap sandals; TIKKR watch; Charming Charlie's rings

Outfit post: The care and feeding of a redhead

Let me share a wee little secret: I am not a natural redhead. (SHOCKING, I realize. And, in other news, water is wet.) My natural hair color falls somewhere between dishwater brown and Betty White's. I started going gray around my senior year of high school, when my heartthrob crush (we'll call him Marc) loudly and rather emphatically drew my attention to a thick gray hair peeking out from my angled bob. I was mortified, and spent the remainder of my high school career hiding from him and begging my mom for permission to color my hair.

My adventures as a redhead began in 1994, when I plunked down $7 of babysitting money for a box of Nice and Easy haircolor in natural light auburn. Yes, there were numerous mishaps in those early days of at-home hair color: stained fingers; a month of purplish-burgundy hair after accidentally leaving the color on longer than instructed; dye drips down the back of my neck; and an unfortunate attempt at coloring my eyebrows. I could describe these in further detail, but I prefer to leave them in the past. Because they're mortifying.

Eventually I got the hang of at-home color, and began to look forward to the nights I colored my hair. And I learned a few things about being a redhead: 

• As a redhead, men will like you. A lot. Probably because they fall victim to the cultural myth that redheads are fiery and saucy and highly sexed. Jonathon Swift satirized (and popularized) this redhead stereotype back in 1726, in the third chapter of Gulliver's Travels, when he wrote: "It is observed that the red-haired of both sexes are more libidinous and mischievous than the rest, whom yet they much exceed in strength and activity." Over time, you'll become proficient at ignoring (or telling off) the leeches who proclaim their love for your red hair.

• Everyone - and I mean everyone - will ask you if your hair is "natural." No matter whether your red hair is from a box or gifted from God. It's kind of like being pregnant with twins, and strangers question whether fertility drugs were the cause.

• Red hair color fades really quickly, and you'll be forced to become an expert on shampooing and styling techniques to prevent fade. For example, I only wash my hair every other day, and rely on a color-depositing shampoo like Bumble and Bumble's Color Support Shampoo in True Red. Devotees of red hair color should avoid frequent heat styling and chlorine, and shampoo with cool water.

• Finding the right shade of red hair color can be tricky. A very subtle red may not be noticeable in dark hair or against darker skin, while a brighter shade may stand out too much on those with fair skin. It's a good idea to try a temporary washout color treatment in the experimental stages. If you don't like the color, a few rinses in the shower should wash out the color.  

I absolutely love being a redhead. It suits my outgoing, extroverted personality and makes me feel a bit more unique. Some say blondes have more fun, but I beg to differ. In a world where blonde is the norm (and especially here in North Dallas) vibrant red heads stand out in the crowd. 

Would you ever consider going red? Or are you a redhead already? Do you have any tips for preventing color fade? 

Anthropologie tank; Gap Outlet cargos; Stuart Weitzman wedges; Forever 21 necklaces; Forever 21 bracelets; TIKKR watch