So I somehow got booked to shoot Phoenix Fashion Week… and I’m still not entirely sure how because I’m grossly under-qualified… but we can talk about that later. Last night was Fashion Week kick off which was a big celebrity fashion show to benefit a handful of breast cancer charities.
Every girl at some point has that moment… that moment where they walk into a room and feel ridiculously self conscious about everything. They think they are the fattest girl there, everyone looks a thousand times better than them, and it sucks. It’s self absorbed and bullshit and (most of us) know that, and for most of us those moments are few and far between, but we’ve all had it. For me when that moment arises (which may be more often than a lot of people because I’m kind of insecure about my body) it’s fairly easy to push down because I know it’s probably all in my head.
But here’s the thing about being at Fashion Week… it might not be in your head.
Let that sink in for a second. All those self absorbed bullshit insecurities may very possibly be irrefutable facts that are firmly grounded in reality.
I was the fattest woman there, that was just a fact. I was rocking an $8 ensemble in a room full of $3,000 handbags. And I guarantee I was the poorest person there because I saw the price of tickets and that number was straight up ridiculous.
And you know what? It was really fucking liberating.
Because when your fears are reality and you’re just fine anyway they completely stop being scary. I strutted around in my dress straight off the clearance rack at Ross, holding my cameras with my media pass blowing in the breeze, pretending I knew exactly what I was doing (I didn’t) and that I totally belonged there (I didn’t).
And it worked. Everybody bought it.
And I realized that even though I was pretty sure those things were actually true for me, there’s a good chance that a lot of the other women there felt that way too. I don’t think I’ll ever be worried about any of those things ever again.