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: Miranda Kerr wants you to know about her underwear

Allow me to share a cringe-inducing little tidbit from a recent People Magazine:

Miranda Kerr’s flawless post-baby body has everyone a little jealous. The Victoria’s Secret Angel, mom to son Flynn, 4 months, with husband Orlando Bloom, bounced right back after giving birth, even hitting the runway in a Paris fashion show.  The model mom says she’s most comfortable when she’s “just in knickers,” hanging around the house with Bloom and Flynn. “People have come to the house and I’m just in my knickers,” she reveals. “[But] I feel like it’s more appropriate to have knickers on than being completely naked.”

If pressed, I'll admit that I've engaged in a few innocent dalliances with US Weekly and People. I have read more than my fair share of exposes on the size and incubation of one's baby bump; the botched plastic surgery attempt of certain b-list celebrities; and pages and pages of baby daddy gossip. I've taken those insipid little tests regarding what my perfume says about my personality, which real housewife I would be in real life, and which celebrity hot spot I should visit during my next luxury vacation (hello, Phuket.) I've examined photos to determine which starlet wore those hideous peach jeans the best. Apparently, this is a thing right now. Peach-colored jeans WILL BE the next blogger red pants. Put your money on it. I've studied Candy Spelling's floorplan and wept white hot tears over the breakups of Courtney Cox and David Arquette/Christina Aguilera and Jordan Brattman/Renee Zellweger and Bradley Cooper. Actually, that last one I'm not so torn up about. Because it means Bradley is available, and I have a shot. Bradley, call me.

Anywhoo. I have been there, people. So I suppose that's why I wasn't so shocked by Miranda Kerr's "I'm so squeally suuuuppppeeeeerrrr comfy in my knickers, teehee" comment. For one thing, once your eyes have been photo-raped by Britney Spears' c-section scar (hello, panty-less crotch shot summer of 2006) you've seen it all. For the time being, let's ignore the snarky, insulting message that Miranda lost her baby weight faster than you did, you fat cow, can't you get your lazy ass off the couch? It's the prancing around the house in her undies that I'd like to focus on. Ms. Kerr is a Victoria's Secret supermodel. Either she's totes getting paid to gush about wearing her undies around the house, or she's a devoted fan of underwear in general. I have no doubt that Miranda spends hours lounging around her immaculately decorated ocean-front limestone mansion in nothing more than a pair of lacy boyshorts and a boned corset three sizes too small for her heaving bosom. She and Orlando probably spend hours having sex on top of the changing table and heating up bottles and preparing homemade baby food in less clothing than their entire baby's layette. I suppose her friends should be happy she wears clothes at all. Naked time for everyone! Weeee!

Personally, when I think of a comfortable choice in clothing to wear hanging around the house, I do not think of my underwear. Underwear is designed to stay under clothes - whether they be leggings and tee shirts or sweatshorts or whatever. I did not grow up in a naked house. My parents were firm believers in sheathing our naked bits in layers of clothing, preferably made from wool. And even now, as a fully grown adult, I don't prance around the house in my skivvies. I can only imagine the horror this behavior would cause - the assault of a splash of hot oil against my uncovered stomach while cooking dinner; the giggling of my children as I emptied the dishwasher; the outright staring of the UPS man when accepting a package; the snickers from friends while serving up cocktails in a push-up bra and satin tap pants. Nope, when I want to be comfortable around the house, I dress in ancient pairs of Old Navy sweats and college tees and maybe, if I'm feeling risque, a Gap body tank.

I'm truly curious to find out if you hang around the house in your underwear. Is this something you're comfortable with? Do you enjoy being naked at home? Why or why not? What do you throw on at the end of the day?

Vintage thrifted silk shirt; vintage Ann Taylor silk skirt; Old Navy belt; vintage thrifted Coach satchel; White Mountain clogs; thrifted (St. Vincent de Paul) Michael Korrs watch; Forever 21 rhinestone bracelet

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: Confessions of a control freak

There's a long list of things I would like to change about myself. There's my tendency to procrastinate - folding the laundry and cleaning the bathrooms and vacuuming and carrying out a myriad of other household tasks. There's my propensity towards driving too fast on the highway. And let's not forget my intolerance towards people that bring more than 15 items to the express check-out line at the supermarket. However, if I had to name what I'd consider my greatest character "challenge,"  I'd say it's my need to feel in control. I go through life the way I drive: gripping the steering wheel until my arms get all scary and veiny and it looks like I'm going to rip the damm wheel off.

Those with issues around control tend to be described by the following attributes: They are dominating, and picky, and highly critical. They are raving perfectionists. They would rather give orders than take them. Someone with control issues finds winning an argument much more fulfilling than finding the right solution, and often makes the people around them anxious, if not alienated. Furthermore, those with control problems often have difficulty trusting others and have a profound fear of having their flaws exposed. Exerting control over our environment is a fundamental human need, but in a certain portion of the population, the mechanism for managing such a need simply doesn't exist. "Control freaks try and control every aspect of the environment," says executive coach Jon Stokes of Stokes & Jolly. "They obsesses. They try to assemble masses of information"

I rationally understand that it's simply not possible for me to always be in control. But more often than not, I find myself struggling to feel like I am. Whether it's insisting on certain seat in a restaurant (usually facing the front entrance, so I can keep tabs on anyone entering and leaving,) or imagining any number of horrific scenarios (so I can work them through in my mind and plan exactly how I'll respond,) my need to feel in control of myself and my circumstances has a significant impact on my life.

For a long time, my need to control was directed at my body. From the foods I put in my mouth to the amount of calories I consumed, I was most definitely in charge and no one - no one - could change that. Studies have shown that many anorexic individuals try to exert control over their bodies through deprivation of food, because they feel very little control over any other aspect of their lives.

But now that I'm solidly in recovery, my control issues squeak out through my shopping habits and wardrobe. I'm constantly in search of the "perfect" piece - the right shade of denim skirt, the sublime touch of a glossy fur, the preppy cut of a slim vintage blazer, the glistening sparkle of a sequined top - and having the perfect wardrobe. It seems I never have the right items to make an outfit look, well, perfect. Nevermind the fact that my closet door is bursting off its hinges. I am convinced that if I keep shopping, and searching, somehow I'll get it right. And if I'm not shopping I'm reorganizing my closet, purging and categorizing and color-coding every item I own. When I feel my life is out of control, this is my self-soothing mechanism. I can't control how often my husband is out of town for work or what my kids do at school,  so I attempt to ease my anxiety by obsessing about shopping, the state of my closet, and dressing "perfectly."

For many women, the search for control is an anxiety management technique of choice. Focusing about what others are doing, compulsively trying make something perfect, or obsessing about appearance are ways through which we create a false sense of security in an unpredictable world. Yesterday, as I was reorganizing and editing and obsessing and categorizing my closet, I wondered if I was the only one who struggled with control issues.  The quest to make everything perfect seems to be something we all deal with at one point or another. Do you think there's a connection between a search for control and perfectionism? Has anyone ever called you a control freak? Do you have to deal with someone who fits the description? How has that affected your relationship?

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

Lucky Brand jacket; thrfted J Crew chambray shirt; Forever 21 lace top; Gap Outlet jeggings; White Mountain sandals; Charming Charlie rings and 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: An exploration of the blogger over-apology

Like most bloggers, I am an obsessive reader of other blogs. I subscribe to nearly 100 through Google Reader, stalk others through Twitter, and catalog a different group on Bloglovin'. I love reading the thoughts of other bloggers, seeing outfit of the day pics, and getting shopping recommendations and beauty tips. I've even gone so far as to meet other bloggers in person, and made some friends I hope to keep for a long time.

However, ever since I started reading blogs, one pattern has become evident. It seems that for every blogger posting an outfit or thoughts regarding summer trends, there's another apologizing for not posting more, not having "better" photos, not wearing a blog-worthy outfit (what does that even mean?), not writing enough, not writing like 'X" blogger does, not participating in a challenge, or for some other reason they feel they are inadequate. I myself have been guilty of this. It makes me wonder - why do we feel the need to apologize?

If you're like many women, saying "I'm sorry" has become a habit, something you murmur before asking a stranger the time or telling the cashier they've given you the wrong change. Experts observe that women apologize more often than men and for a wider variety of reasons. The fear of conflict is a big reason why many women over-apologize. “Women are hard-wired to focus on cooperation and community, versus competition and confrontation, the way men are,” says Beverly Engel, author of The Power of Apology. And according to Dr. Susan Gaddis, of communicationsdoctor.com, "Women say, ‘I'm sorry’ much more than men because of our nurturing nature and our desire to make everyone happy.”

There's nothing wrong with apologizing in and of itself. Taking responsibility for our impact on others; acknowledging our own mistakes and shortcomings; and restoring connections and trust with those we've wronged (which is what authentic apologizing is all about) are essential qualities of mature relationships and living a fulfilled life.

However, the problem becomes when we start apologizing for who we are. When we're telling our readers that we're sorry for not posting more, or not dressing more blog-worthy, or not participating in a challenge, we're communicating that we're not good enough, and our blogs are not good enough. We're putting ourselves in a position to be judged. We're essentially saying, "I'm bad; it's my fault; don't hate me; don't leave me." I hypothesize that so many bloggers over-apologize because they're afraid of losing followers. In their eyes, losing a follower means they've failed. And who wants to be a failure?

There's nothing wrong with explaining to readers why you skipped a few days of blogging, or why you chose not to do a challenge, or why you're dressed more casually than you normally do. But unwarranted over-apologizing positions us as subservient and hurts us. It can make us feel indebted to our readers and less powerful over what and how often we post. In addition, over-apologizing to your readers immediately puts their happiness at a higher level than yours. It creates a divide: the needs of your readers are 'right', and your own needs are 'wrong.' This leads you to you to feel remorseful for your perceived "inadequacies." The quality of our life depends directly on the choices we make and how we act upon them. Part of the process of building healthy self-esteem comes from making your needs a priority and not being apologetic about them.

When I started blogging, I didn't do so to attract a million readers (though I am THRILLED that you all are here.) I don't blog to be competitive, and I don't blog out of a feeling of obligation. I blog because I want to. This blog is, ultimately, for me - a place to write about topics that interest me, share my thoughts with the world, be part of a community of people with similar ideas, and have fun. It's my space, and it's up to me to set the rules. If I want to post every day, I do. But if I miss a day, so be it. I recognize that my real-life activities and relationships are far more important, and there's no reason for me to apologize for it. None of us should feel we must say sorry to our readers for having a life outside our blogs. There is absolutely nothing wrong with taking a day, or week, or month off. And, in that vein, there's nothing wrong with not participating in a challenge, or not having regular features, or not constantly updating your layout. It's your blog - do what you want, when you want.  Ultimately, your blog exists to make you happy. And that's what matters the most.

And now I ask you: Have you ever felt a need to apologize to your readers? Do you believe bloggers over-apologize out of a fear of losing followers, or is there something deeper going on? Have you ever struggled with apologizing too much? Do you believe you owe your readers an apology when you miss a day of blogging, or aren't participating in a challenge?

Thrifted vintage silk blouse; thrifted Armani skirt; thrifted vintage Coach satchel; Target belt; MIA clogs; Dolly Python leather cuff; World Market Catholic saints bracelet; Forever 21 pendant

Everybody Everywear: Florals (with a bit about bra shopping)

If you are a woman, and you are wearing a bra, you are probably wearing the wrong size one. That's what they say. According to "experts"  and "surveys," anywhere between 70% to 85% of women are mistreating their breasts, either shoving them into too-small cups or allowing them to flop freely in stretched-out, ill-fitting bras. Origins of this statistic are mysterious - some websites blame it on a Victoria's Secret poll, others something from the Wacoal brand, and some a particularly stressful episode of Oprah. Even worse, in 2008 Jezebel referenced a study by "esteemed" U.K publication The Daily Mail which claimed that wearing the wrong bra size can permanently damage breasts. The terrifying notion that we are wearing the wrong bra size has been quoted back to me by my mom, friends, and basically every women's magazine I've flipped through. "Eighty-five percent of American woman are wearing the wrong bra" is the "more likely to be killed by a terrorist than get married" statistic of the new millennium.

The problem is so dramatic that Oprah devoted two full episodes addressing it. She lauded the importance of the professional bra fitting, proclaiming it "the beauty secret that literally produces miracles." According to Oprah and her team of experts, a bra fitting can reverse aging and "make you look ten, even twenty pounds lighter." The correct bra size also makes your clothes fit better, and  improves your posture. Squees Oprah, a professional fitting culminates in a bra-ha! moment, that magical experience where your boobs are lifted and supported and exotic white doves burst forth from the dressing room in a double rainbow display of ecclesiastical joy. Hmmm. By Oprah's description, getting professionally fitted for a bra falls somewhere between winning the lottery and finding a golden lamp with a wish-granting genie inside. Wrong Bra-Sizegate is so critical that Oprah's website includes a "Bra Intervention" section, profiling unfortunate creatures in before-and-after photos. And it can't be denied that these women look ecstatically happy in their new bras, grinning beatifically at the camera in their lacy concoctions.

Okay. To summarize, wearing the wrong size bra makes me look old, fat, and will permanently masticate my boobs. AND YET you could not pay me enough to get professionally fitted. Bras are my most dreaded item to shop for. There's too much uncertainty, too much itchy lace, too many complicated straps and hooks and pokey underwire and it's so cold that my nipples might poke someone's eye out and OH MY GOD WHY CAN'T I JUST BIND MY BREASTS DOWN WITH ELASTIC LIKE THE FLAPPERS DID THIS IS TORTURE STRESSYTIME AAARRRGGGHHHHH!!!. Just the THOUGHT of some other WOMAN prodding my delicate ladybreastesses with her sure-to-be-freezing hands makes me break out in hives. Nothanx.

Some women hate shopping for swimsuits. To them, baring pasty winter skin to the hash light of a dressing room is akin to torture. For others it's jeans; and for some, it's shoes. Regardless of what women's magazines want us to think, shopping is not always the fun, carefree experience they gleefully preach. When your feet are a size eleven, finding properly fitting shoes is an exercise in patience and fortitude. Petite women struggle to hunt down pants that don't sweep the floor; plus-size women endeavor to locate flattering wedding gowns.

I know I'll have to get over my fear of the professional bra fitting, and expose my bosoms to a department store saleslady eventually. I don't want to look fat, or old, or give cause to my clothes not fitting as well as they could (though this pretty vintage floral dress seems made for me - new bra not necessary.) But for now, I'll avoid bra shopping, and focus my stress on something infinitely more challenging: deciding on a new bikini. Pass the Prozac.

So how about you - what's your most dreaded item to shop for? How do you deal with the challenge of shopping for a dreaded item?

Vintage thrifted 1970's silk dress; White Mountain clogs; vintage thrifted satchel; Charming Charlie and Forever 21 bracelets; Loft coral ring; Betsey Johnson gold watch

Outfit Post: The best mobile fashion, style, and shopping apps

One gloriously bright July morning, I emerged from my bedroom and took the usual zombie-like walk into my kitchen. Rubbing my eyes sleepily, I reached for the coffee pot and felt my fingers brunch against something unfamiliar. It was rectangular, and formidable, and oddly bulky. It wasn't until my eyes opened completely that I realized it was a box, and that I was the proud new owner of an iPhone.

See, it was the morning of my birthday, and my husband had finally listened to my demands for a new phone. The one I'd been using was...unfortunate. It had a cracked screen, squeaky flip cover and was covered in ancient layers of grime from my kids' sticky fingers. Texting on it was lesson in patience, fortitude, and dexterity. And texts from me looked something like this: "R U Th TXW THR THER ARGHHHHHH H8!!!!!!!! And so on.

From the start, iPhone both thrilled and terrified me, much in the way Karl Lagerfeld does to his celebrity muse du jour. It was my baby. The gods at Apple had entrusted it to my care, and I was going to do my best to learn it's quixotic and somewhat temperamental ways. Sometimes iPhone threw tantrums and randomly drained its own battery. On occasion, it butt-dialed small businesses. And iPhone's screen often went blank if tiled at a disagreeable angle. Oh, and there's also the fact that syncing to iTunes once resulted in the disappearance of EVERY SINGLE SONG I'D EVER PURCHASED. That was a very very bad day. But, eventually, we put our issues aside, and today our relationship is stronger than ever.

I've become quite attached to iPhone, and find it a necessary tool when trying to find a new thrift shop, do research on a blog post, or kill time waiting on a doctor's appointment. Sadly,  though, I'm not the most technically advanced person, and often feel I'm not utilizing the phone as fully as I could be. Aside from purchasing books through Amazon's app I rarely use it for shopping. I find it challenging to examine items on a small screen, and the pages are often slow to load. Perhaps most frustrating, the process of entering information on a mobile keyboard requires either surgical precision or very teeny tiny fingers.

The New York Times recently explored the unexpected challenges retailers are experiencing with generating customers through mobile devices. Retailers report that only about 2 percent of their sales are coming from smart phones, well below the expectations of many e-commerce analysts.The potential for added revenue from mobile sales remains huge, retailers believe. EBay said that in 2010 it generated almost $2 billion in mobile sales, and is on track to double that this year.

But major retailers like Coach, J Crew, Urban Outfitters and Loft still do not have sites designed specifically for mobile phones - known as optimized sites - and nor do they have apps. By mid-2010, according to the Acquity Group, just 12 percent of the top 500 United States online retailers had sites compatible with mobile browsers, while just 7 percent had apps. Many sites that are not optimized require page after page of confirmations about shipping methods or credit cards, even for an existing customer who has logged in. Entering a credit card and a billing address and all that sort of stuff is truly frustrating when using a mobile device. It's clunky, and time-consuming, and usually results in a customer abandoning their order.

Christian Louboutain once famously asked, "What is an app?" admitting, "I'm a very bad technician. Technology, zero." However, more designers and fashion retails are warming up to the idea of e-commerce, and several biggies have rolled out iPhone apps to show off collections and allow users to shop. After a bit of research I did uncover a number of mobile fashion and shopping apps for my iPhone that are streamlined and relatively easy to use. Sadly, android users continue to have limited options, but increased attention on mobile sales will hopefully lead to the creation of android fashion and shopping apps in the near future.

Here are some highly rated fashion, style and shopping apps:

• Chicfeed: This app pulls photos from the internet's most respected style blogs, including The Satorialist and Lookbook. If you're seeking quick eye-candy, there's no better way to see loads of style photos all in one spot. 

• Shopstyle Mobile: This site's spinoff app aggregates clothing and accessories from more than 100 e-commerce sites (Asos, Bluefly, and Neiman Marcus among them.) Explore indiscriminately, or search by keyword, brand, store, price, color, size and sale. If you find something you love, the app directs you to an online retailer. 

• Pinterest: Pinterest is a website that lets you 'pin' photos and images from the web to a virtual bulletin board, and has a rabid following with bloggers. It requires an invite to join, though you can put your name on the miles-long waiting list for an account. Debuting this morning, the Pinterest app allows users to pin images through their mobile phones, browse other user's pins, reply and 'like' your favorite pins, and pin with your iPhone camera. It's a handy way to create a virtual shopping list and track trends.

• iShoes: Explore more than 50,000 shoes in the Finder, or search by style and designer. The app indicates which pairs are on sale and connects you straight to retailers.The  iShoes app is free, and offers decent-sized close-ups of each item.

• Lucky at Your Service: Another free app, this one uses GPS, e-commerce and real-life staffers to locate editor-approved clothing, shoes, accessories and beauty products. Once you've found that amazing piece, the app directs you to the online retailer, and, in select cases, to a store within 50 miles that stocks it. Even better, the Lucky concierge team can call the store to place the item on hold for you. The concierge team sends you an email within an hour with details how you can pick up your new garment.

• Net-A-Porter (and Gilt Group): These genius apps for luxury clothing and accessories alert you every time their main sites are updated with new products.You can also create wish lists, purchase items, and read weekly fashion news.

• Sephora: This app puts everything you love about beauty products at your fingertips. You can browse products based on brand, new products, and online exclusives; look up specific shade names and formulations; watch expert tutorials; read product reviews; and get news on special online offers. You can also easily review past orders.

• eBay: The goliath of auction shopping, the eBay app allows you to seamlessly search for items and place bids. The app allows you to watch items, search by brand, price, and keyword, and links with Paypal to permit instant payment. It also provides personal recommendations of auctions based on recent purchases. 

 
Do you have any favorite shopping and fashion apps? Do you use your mobile device for shopping? Would increased availability of retail apps encourage you to use your phone for shopping?

Vintage thrifted silk top; Gap Outlet cargos; Target belt; H&M platform clogs; Forever 21 rhinestone pyramid bracelet; Charming Charlie pearl bracelets and gold bangles; Forever 21 rhinestone earrings; Loft coral ring; Betsey Johnson gold watch

Outfit Post: The right to say yes

The word no is fundamental to my eating disorder. No dessert for me. No, you don't need to worry about me, I'm fine. No, I can't possibly wear that pencil skirt, it'll make me look fat. No thanks, I'm not hungry. No, I'm okay. No, I'm busy tonight. It's a lot about avoidance, crippling negative body image,  and refusing to have needs. That extends beyond food. When in relapse, only the complete and total refusal to acknowledge my needs would make me feel in control. The idea was to need nothing - friends, love, clothes that exposed my body, support, food.

I went so long experiencing this numbness that I developed quite a few methods of deceiving myself that I was being authentic. I had no clue what I wanted, and the submission of my needs lead to an inability to recognize them at all. What I ended up doing was turning "me" into a slave to the eating disorder. I was nothing beyond it, and nothing without it. Ironically, I also became really, really good at faking a non-ED self to everyone around me. It's surprisingly easy to just go along with what everyone else wants to do. You simply stealthily observe, check body language and tone of voice, and easily conclude what someone wants before they even express it. This has the added bonus of making the other person feel happy, keeping the peace and thus ensuring your security in the relationship.

I'm coming to a point in my recovery where I find myself saying yes more than I ever have. It goes way beyond yes, I do want some ice cream tonight, or yes, I can wear that pencil skirt. It's about letting go of the embarassment I feel over having needs. Saying yes makes me feel vulnerable and weak. And shameful. I feel ashamed for asking for what I want, for having dreams, for saying out loud how I really feel. Saying yes makes me feel greedy and indulgent and selfish for wanting. Saying yes to food is hard enough - I've gotten to the point where I can accept that I have to eat, but saying I want to is an entirely different concept.

It's true that I often don't know what I want. I still find it challenging to recognize if I'm truly enjoying myself, or just putting on an act to make those around me happy. Take the following example: Last spring I accompanied my husband as he played golf. He'd wanted me to go with him for years, but I always put him off, imagining the experience as entertaining as watching paint dry. But I agreed, and sat in the cart reading a book while he shot his 18 holes. He was really, really happy to have me with him - he even said he played better than he ever had. But the whole time, I kept asking myself - am I happy? Am I having a good time? Is this fun? Even now, nearly a year later, I have no clue.

But I see this as progress. I'm questioning whether I'm being authentic or not. I'm refusing to keep my head in the sand. And I'm giving myself the permission to finally say yes.

Thrifted Tucker For Target blouse; vintage thrifted skirt ($.89!); Target belt; H&M sandals; Forever 21 pyramid bracelet; Forever 21 rhinestone earrings; Loft coral ring; Betsey Johnson watch

Outfit Post: Your mother will tell you those shoes look ridiculus

When you're trying to decide if you can really pull off his season's wide-leg jeans trend, or whether or not to invest in a pair of wood platform wedges, your best advocate might be close to home. A new study says women who want an honest opinion when they go shopping should bring their mothers. It seems women (at least, the 2,000 polled) consult their moms for honest shopping opinions.

I haven't lived in the same state as either of my parents in close to eight years. And, even if I did, I doubt I'd drag my mom out shopping with me. See, my mother is what some would call high-maintenance, and others would deem a pain in the ass. Critical and obsessive, a "quick" shopping excursion with my mother takes no less than three hours and requires the kind of fortitude usually reserved for mountaineers embarking on a climb of Everest. She also has the tactical skills of a stealth missile and can sniff out a sale better than anyone. A conservative dresser, my mother lives by traditional fashion rules, such as matching your belt to your shoes to your purse, and not wearing white after Labor Day. As far as she's concerned, wearing thrifted and vintage clothes is akin to rubbing your face in a bacteria-infested petri dish. Her hobbies include make-overs at the Estee Lauder counter, endless searches for the perfect pair of metallic leather sandals, not those platform ones dear, they'll make you look cheap, and sneaking into back rooms for first dibs on new merchandise.

Most importantly, though, one must come prepared to handle her unsolicited advice when shopping with her. Most of my outfits are met with the following response: They're either "inappropriate," "ridiculous," or "are you trying to embarrass me?" However, I'll admit that my mother's brutal honestly has saved me from making some unfortunate fashion choices. Such as those shortalls I desperately wanted back in 1991, which she strongly advised against.

According to the study, posted on Newslite.com, researchers explained that a third of women would rather shop with their mothers due to the belief that female friendships can be a minefield of jealousy, false compliments and complex mind games. It seems these fears of jealousy are true: One in 20 women admitted lying to a friend that they look great in something when they looked awful - because they didn't want them to look better than them.

By contrast, mothers tend to be honest (often brutally so) if they don't like something, and genuinely complimentary if they do. They completely lack a sense of competition regarding who dresses best. Mothers are also great at determining what flatters you - often you share the same body type, and your mother is best equipped to steer you towards clothes that compliment your shape. In addition, according to the study, shopping with mothers was found to be more focused and productive than an outing with friends, who often waste time gossiping and chatting.

Who do you turn to when you want brutally honest advice about a new purchase? Do you shop with your mom, or does it stress you out too much? Do you consult her before you make a big purchase, or do you have another friend who's your go-to for style advice? Do you agree that mom is more likely to provide an honest reaction to potential fashion purchases?

Vintage thrifted dress ($4) ; Old Navy belt; H&M sandals; vintage thrifted python clutch; Forever 21 pyramid bracelet; Forever 21 gold hoops; Betsey Johnson watch

Outfit Post: The 36 year-old prom queen

So it's May. For many, May triggers thoughts of the following: The bloom of flowers, emergence of leaves on the trees, and summer fashions appearing in stores. But ever since my delicate adolescent years, May has pinpointed my attention on one thing - prom.

I have absolutely wonderful memories of my prom. Much like the royal wedding, prom was about one thing, and one thing only - my dress. I fantasized about that damm dress for years and tormented my poor mother about dress specifications for approximately as long. I daydreamed about the material, the neckline, the poof of the skirt, the amount of sequins and/or beading OR the lack of sequins/beading, and the length. I doodled pictures of Fantasy Dress in the margins of my homework. I cut out pictures of dresses I liked from magazines and carefully pasted them into a scrapbook. I engaged in passionate discussions regarding Fantasy Dress with as much vigor as the Mideast peace talks. This was a big deal.

When the time to purchase Fantasy Dress arrived, I was READY. Or so I thought. I waltzed confidently into my local boutique, shoulders squared and head held high. And I took one look at the rows of dresses for sale and promptly regressed into a cowering quivering overwhelmed creature on the verge of a nervous breakdown. There were SO MANY colors, SO MANY styles, SO MANY fabric choices, and ZOMG I CAN'T DO THIS I AM GOING TO BE NEKKID AT PROM AAAARRRGGGGHHH.

*Deep breath.*

After hysterics and deep breathing into a paper bag and many many glasses of water, I settled on a glorious 1990's Betsey Johnson concoction formulated from dark green lace with a demure sweetheart neckline and flared hem. It was perfect. I adored that dress. I would have worn it to sleep if my mother hadn't vehemently expressed her disapproval.

A few years ago, Morgan Spurlock ate nothing but McDonald's for 30 days and made a movie about it. In March, two New Yorkers inspired by nostalgia and prom season embarked on a much less gross but equally ambitious quest - to wear their prom dresses every day for 30 days straight. Called Take Me To The Prom, the Tumblr's authors documented their experience in their prom gear and provide thoughts on all things prom related. In addition to showing off remixed prom dress looks, Mallory and Bianca share inspirations, tips and tricks, prom stories, and videos. Though their month-long prom party has come to an end, the site is still there as a prime resource for any prom-goer in need of some inspiration. Such as myself. In an obvious example of either brain damage/temporary insanity, I thrifted a vintage prom dress the other day. And I wore it to fetch take-out. For realsies.

Can you imagine having to wear your prom dress for a straight month? Would it be a fantasy for you, or pure torture? Would you revel in the chance for a do-over, or does the mere thought make you break out in high school-like fits of self-consciousness? And what did your prom dress look like? Discuss!

Forever 21 denim jacket; vintage thrifted J Crew denim shirt; vintage thrifted 1980's prom dress ($8!); Gap tights; NYLA booties

Fashion rules broken: Dressing appropriately, wearing double denim, dressing mono-chromatically. Rules are for fools.

Outfit Post: Shoulding all over myself

Over the past week, I've been having more difficulty deciding how to dress in the morning. I find myself standing in front of my closet, genuinely and thoroughly perplexed. Often I feel I truly have nothing to wear. I throw on outfit after outfit, my anxiety increasing with each article of clothing that I pull on. Rejected pieces puddle on the closet floor. With each passing minute I feel more and more pressure to find the "perfect"look, and more critical about my appearance and my body. Confusing this is the knowledge that I'm a fashion writer and style blogger...shouldn't I be able to dress myself without throwing a tantrum? Shouldn't this be simple, and fun, and my happy time? I've been photographing myself every day for nearly five months. Shouldn't I be over my body anxieties?

Between blogging, doing research, taking care of the house, staying in touch with friends, paying bills, running errands, planning meals, helping my kids with homework and shuffling them to school and taekwando,  I often feel like a circus juggler. I'm trying desperately not only to keep all the balls in the air, but also keep track of where each ball is. Despite the metaphorical nature of my juggling it is nonetheless stressful, and it's no wonder I feel overwhelmed.

The years of abuse from the anorexia combined with the unstoppable forces of aging have played no small role. My body simply won't let me push it that hard.  It loses concentration while doing research for a post.  It finds a way to zone out. And it throws out warning blips in the form of anxiety attacks. I think back to my college days, when I carried a full course-load while working two jobs and writing for my college newspaper. I lived on four hours of sleep and endless mugs of black coffee. Sure, I was miserable and depressed, but I can't help but feel jealous of the old Elissa who got so much done. And then I feel lazy in comparison.

When I find myself becoming overwhelmed and anxious, I believe the problem boils down to one word: Should. I seem to have internal rules about "appropriate" ways to feel, behave and dress. I should be working on my next blog post. I shouldn't have trouble with body anxiety. I shouldn't wear that short skirt. I should tie my belt exactly like my favorite bloggers. The problem is that the word should implies judgment. It communicates that what I'm doing is inherently incorrect, and that there are absolute rights and wrongs. Thinking within the parameters of the should's create some very narrow minded black and white thinking. It's no shock I feel so out of balance.

So the next time I stand in front of my closet, wondering what to wear and only seeing the shouldn't, I'm going to challenge myself to dress as I want, and feel what I feel. If dressing gets too complicated, I'll give myself permission to throw on jeans and call it a day. If I'm having anxiety about my body, I'll check in with my husband and ask for his support. And if blogging seems to be too much, I'll take a break.

Have you had mornings where you felt you had nothing to wear (despite a full closet?) Why do you think this happens? Do you struggle with managing the should's? Can you explain how you deal with this? 

Thrifted vintage Oscar de La Renta silk blouse; thrifted vintage skirt; J Crew ballet flats (eBay); Marc Jacobs bag (consignment store); Forever 21 rhinestone bracelet; TIKKR watch

Outfit Post: Patricia Field and Kotex want to celebrate your magical lady bits

Earlier this month, U by Kotex launched a collaborative contest with costume designer Patricia Field, inviting people to redesign the maxi pad. "Girls have choices in all aspects of their lives, so why should they settle for boring and institutional feminine care products?" said the company in a statement. For every design submitted, Kotex will donate $1 to Girls For A Change—a non-profit organization empowering girls to create and lead social change within their communities. According to Ad Age, contest winners will work with Field to design new and wild maxi pads, and attend Fashion Week in New York City in September.

Confession: Other than the word panties, my least-favorite word in the English language is vagina. I don't know why - I have one, so therefore shouldn't I be comfortable with the word for it? My issues with the vagina probably have to do with the general discomfort I have regarding my body, femininity and related sexuality. Thankfully, I do realize that I'm far from the only person on this planet with issues regarding the word vagina, which probably explains why there are so many alternatives to it, raunchy as they might be.

It might also explain why commercials and print advertising for products related to female anatomy, and that time of the month, are so archaic. Traditional ads are rich in mysterious ecstasy - women in flouncy skirts, twirling in fields or riding carefree on bicycles; clusters of attractive, young women bonding over their brand of tampon. It's absurd, especially considering that ads describing erectile dysfunction are shown during the five o'clock news. If we can talk so openly and frankly about the penis, why can't we do so about the va-jayjay?

Menstruation has always been marketed as a very personal thing, a magical moment when a woman's uterus whispers sweet nothings captured by a special, pillowy product. (My uterus has never whispered anything to me. It yells and then shanks me with a rusty blade.) Or so the average period-products commercial would have you believe. Which is why I just about lost it after seeing Kotex's newest ad campaign. The first ads were meta-parodies of traditional campaigns for female products, similar to those hilarious Old Spice ads. The more recent ones, which rely on hidden camera, man-on-the-street encounters, indicate that there is plenty of cultural taboo and awkwardness regarding lady bits. In one, a girl stands outside a drugstore and asks random guys to buy tampons for her. In another clip, a guy shops for tampons for his girlfriend, eliciting the all-too-apt response, "It's a man's world" (this time in reference to cardboard applicators.)

Kotex Rorschach test
Lady bits; hole; hoo-hah; down-there...anything but vagina.

Kotex man on the street
(IS SHE TALL?!? Love it. Get that man a cigar.)

As Adweek columnist Barbara Lippert writes with reference to the campaign,

"It's interesting that in our hyper-sexualized, girls-gone-wild culture, where characters on sitcoms like Two and a Half Men joke about "nailing" women and commercials airing during the family hour regularly mention four-hour erections, there's still one backwater of weird prudery: the subject of menstruation and the vaginal healthcare that goes with it.

Who knew that you could talk about vaginas and be funny and not insulting? Now we need even more honesty and directness. Women's bodies and sexuality do not have to be embarrassing or *hidden.* (Or talked about in titillating, colloquial terms for the benefit of men.) Though Kotex is surely motivated by a desire to sell more products, I really like that they're encouraging women like me to become more comfortable with their bodies, especially the magical lady parts. Yay vagina!

What do you think of the Patricia Field and Kotex collaboration? Would pretty pads and honest talk about the vagina help you feel more comfortable about your body, and about that time of the month? Would you consider purchasing Patricia Field's redesigned pads? And am I the only one with issues about the vagina?

Forever 21 lace jacket; thrifted Ann Taylor chambray shirt; thrifted Old Navy striped tee; thrifted Talbots skirt; Miz Mooz wedges; Forever 21 rhinestone bracelet and earrings