‘Let’s make Minnesota our runway? Why not?’ I’ll tell you why not. Because it’s effing cold outside. And now I must decipher whether it’s my previous post biting me in the ass or this -18 degree wind chill. Both, definitely both. Quite transparently, I boldly spoke before my actions. And while lately I jump at the chance to blame anything and everything on Minnesota weather I must admit, and only for the sake of karma, tarnishing Minnesota’s name within the subject of outfit wearing isn’t revealing the complete truth. So, what is the complete truth?
Well, naturally, I assumed actualizing a blog would provide enough motivation into my being that I’d instinctually dress street style cool day-in and day-out. And with each passing day and each notable outfit I conceive I’d definitely enjoy a plethora of material to write about. Similar to the two intertwined mindsets we establish for the first day of school; convincing ourselves that we will keep up our dress throughout the semester which, in turn, will inspire us to engage in daily progress instead of the before exam cram. And by the first test we peevishly drudge to class in an oversized zip-up which, admittedly, carried the potential to look casually cool if it weren’t for our eyes exploiting the reality of our failed no-cram plan.
It turns out that Minnesota’s cold weather aura is entirely easy to step over by saying “eff it” and it’s the cold confidence in ourselves freezing us in place. However, this sly, wondrous state certainly does its part by indirectly, and quite directly I guess, playing her annoyingly game-ending weather card that encourages our insides to take less significant action in the sense of personal style.
You see, even if the cold fails to freeze all warm, love-flowing and approachable veins pumping through us then the clouds readily hover with back up drear and suck all the happiness out of us like a Dementor (shout-out to @numberonemuggle, yo) convincing each of us we suffer from seasonal affective disorder. A claim that wouldn’t be a reality show to authenticate. It not only leaves us in a saucy mood but minimizes ones motivation to do anything but curl under the covers hoping someone will start Netflix for us. And when we finally do unwrap our pride from our down comforters and sprint to the shower, we’ve lost all control to inspiringly dress ourselves.
But let’s say on these frigid days, we make our tough-love mother (state) proud and step up to choose an outfit that will defy all others. And because putting together an outfit that expresses one’s mood, strive to be, and current crush channeling isn’t hard enough…we often find ourselves dressing around the hurdle of insecurities haunting us since the first comment or comparison that generated it in the first place. And everyone knows going around the hurdle might be easier in the moment but is detrimental in the long run.
Each morning is its own hurdle, even for the most confident or the seemingly unjustified in feeling any self-consciousness of girls, and this cold weather contagion escalates all our insecurities like a text message that read ‘k.’ So, instead, we throw on our Lulu Lemon get-up and (coincidentally with this hurdle theme I’ve adopted here) we channel a runner surely not all of us are but we certainly believed we were the day before. It’s okay, pretend is quite the surviving pastime, anyway. And as I start to ramble without a clear thesis, do bloggers even need one?, I should share what I am getting at before I start to lose myself too.
What I’m saying is; I had big, ambitious, unreasonable but, thanks to Lupita Nyong’o, valid dreams for my blog and envisioned exponential growth in content from the get go. Everything blogger guides told me not to do, I did them, sensibly assuming I’d be the exception. And after writing my first post I deemed would be the hardest, wallowing in my second which actually is the hardest, I realized I have some things to get out of the way before I can actually make the Mark Cuban of blogs I imagined you would be reading by now. All thoughts, no walks. So, bare with me as I practice jumping my hurdles instead of coasting around them, setting up a stronger foundation to block my inevitable falls without swiping them away with accusations at the weather. I can’t believe you didn’t understand the purpose of this post from my first paragraphs.