A Tomboy At Heart

I don't like fashion.

I'll wait til you stop hyperventilating now...

You see, I don't get it and since I can rarely fit into any of it, I don't care much for it. How can I be "fashion forward" if I still need to shop at the stores I did 10 years ago?

Plus, I'm pretty sure the frilly get-ups my mom stuffed me in traumatized me for life. I ditched those itchy dresses for some ratty sneakers and jeans as soon as I got the chance. And come recess where would Dorkys be? Not playing hopscotch with the girls, thats for sure. Instead, I'd play cops and robbers and catch with the boys, running around not caring if my clothes got messy.

And so over the years I've developed a style my sister - the fashionista - and I like to call "bummy chic."

That's right. When dressing (if you can even call it that) bummy chic you always choose comfort over style regardless of the occasion. It's saying "Hell no" to tortured feet and shivering because your bare behind is freezing in that mini. It's accepting the fact that yeah, you might not look too awesome, but at least you won't be the one walking barefoot on that nasty floor. You might even go so far as to walk on that fine line between professionalism and "Did you roll out of bed and come straight to work?" (Tip: It helps if you choose a career that lets you wear jeans and sneakers everyday. See picture on right.)

And there's an added bonus to all this comfort. When you do get dressed up all fancy schmancy people take notice. Who knew there was a cutie hiding under that old sweatshirt?? (Me, that's who.)

Btw, turns out the night Penny and I met, she went home and in a fit of inspiration designed a whole new fashion line collection. Go figure.