If your passion is writing fashion is not your game
I am odd woman in this world so focused on sexual attraction. I focus more on sexualizing my words on paper than the outfit I wear outside. In my eyes, the way a person dress should not determine how attractive they are, or what type of person they are. However, the world does not work that way. We are the products of our imagination which is displayed in the way we dress like how a cat’s tail displays how he is feeling for the day.
I’m not one for high heels because it makes me feel like a giraffe with stilts’. I mean who wants to try to balance on heels that if you get too drunk you’re going to trip over stairs. High heels to me are like asking me to write a technical piece on computers which I have hardly any knowledge on the inner workings of the god machine. You won’t catch me trying to impress men by acting tall when I know I’m short. It’s like you want to be a chameleon but the shoes don’t change color to blend in. If you try to deceive a man into liking you because you are slightly tall I find the same tactic as changing your hair color because he likes blonde. Ick.
Why go to great lengths for a guy that will probably fuck you for a night and walk away the next morning? I mean that’s like writing an entire story in one night and then deleting the words on the page without a care. It depletes the purpose. I am not one to dress up every time I leave the house. This could be due to the fact that I am a writer, and live much like a hobbit under a cave. People to me are meant to be observed thus I try not to dress to impress like most women unless its a special occasion. I find one of my favorite try fails at dressing up was when I wore a nice purple dress with white flowers at the end of it.
The dress itself cut at mid thigh leaving me feeling just slightly uncomfortable from all the attention from men. I don’t like the awe gaping, mouth watering attention that men tend to give women. I guess I’m a bit different where I like sex but I don’t like to advertise my ugly body to every wolf in the room. I like to think of myself like a rare white leopard in a room full of regular colored leopards. Most women decide their fashion based on social media, and the community they live in. Pretty sure ninety percent of us buy our undergarments from victoria’s secret. I may qualify in that percentage a bit.
Our sense of fashion is a lot like a writer’s writing style. We want our style to pop out at the eyes, and bring attention like the words on a page could invoke an image in someone’s eyes. I don’t find that a necessity or value in who I am. What I wear is dependent on what I feel as comfortable. Just like what I write is the complete opposite of comfortable. When I write I want you to feel the sadness from a woman who just had a miscarriage or a man too lonely to step away from his whisky. My words need to be the most uncomfortable mix of language to ever be created or else I am doing my passion wrong.
My fashion sense is probably more unusual than most. I love to wear to tank tops in the midst of winter with shorts just because it’s nice to show off my legs that don’t exist in the middle of winter. I tend to wear jeans, and T-shirts for the most part with a nice skirt every great once in awhile for a treat to myself. It’s like when I decide to exercise my writing skills in lyrical writing. I love to experiment with woven words that invoke feeling or images within the reader. In my eyes there are too many people dressing the way the media caters to. I may do my hair for special occasions but I don’t tend to like to have a massive hair do cause as a writer standing out is scary. If you’ve ever stood out in a crowd all the compliments get kind of scary.