Ya….so my husband didn’t care for this outfit. That’s pretty much the premise of this post. He made a little joke about what I was wearing on our last night in Turks & Caicos, that didn’t sit well. I was surprised to even get a comment out of him, because he understood early in our relationship that a slightly negative, or even neutral opinion as far as what I’m wearing is concerned, could literally turn any evening into Def-Con 4. Seriously, like if he looks at me after I’ve changed, and I don’t get a “that’s cute” or “you look beautiful,” I start questioning everything. Its like the 4 stages of outfit rejection. First theres the I don’t care what you think moment, basically the “you’re such a dick” exchange. Followed by low self-esteem and questioning, the “do I look like a dick in this outfit?”. Then you have the anxiety, this is the part when you start sweating as your body temperature rises from anger/panic, and finally the full mental break down. You can easily spot this part as it involves literally trying everything in your closet in a fit of rage, while swearing at your loved one, and making a huge fucking mess. Long sleeve/long pants combo, red hot sunburn, and tropical temperature… ya, the sweating portion of the 3rd anxiety stage was hitting me really hard when we shot this little number. Who knew one could look so zen, when about to declare war on a perfectly nice evening? Just wanted to look like I knew how to meditate
Christian Dior earrings, Nasty Gal necklace and rings, H&M shirt and pants, Chanel bag, and Alexander McQueen sandals.