C'mon Vogue

I’m a fashion gay. Not in the Christian Siriano way, but more in the absolutely captivated by all things fashion sense. I religiously read GQ, W magazine (cuz it’s not just the men’s lines that I like) and I’m always looking at the video and pictures of the runway shows during Fashion Week. It’s just I always feel like I have to add a disclaimer of “don’t judge, I can’t dress myself” when I say that.

I have plenty of friends who actually won’t go clothes shopping unless I go with them. One of my few talents is the ability to look at someone, make a quick assessment and then make them look the best they’ve ever looked. It’s a gift, I don’t own it. (Points if you get the 80’s sitcom reference)

One of my favorite recent moments was a co-worker asking me to take him and 3 other straight guys shopping for clothes before they went on a group vacation to New York City. They didn’t want to look like Kentucky hicks in the club in New York. So, I took a fellow adjuster, a soccer coach, a police officer and I’m not honestly sure what the other guy did to the mall. Granted, we aren’t doing high fashion at J. Crew, but I had a blast having conversations about various cuts for jeans and showing them how good they could look if they’d frickin’ wear a shirt that FITS!!! Not to mention the delight I found in the conversation with one of them about how we had to be mindful of his “substantial endowment” when going for the low-rise jeans. Seriously, y’all…I got a little ferklempt in the Guess store.

It’s just that when I try to shop for myself, my super powers instantly go away. When I look at myself, I see a very overweight, out of shape, disproportionate blob. I actually made a list of 100 something things that I dislike about myself when I was in college. Most of those are things that I can’t change without a Michael Jackson-esque reincarnation under the plastic surgeon’s knife. I don’t really have the money for that.

So, I’m sitting here today at work in what I feel like would be a very cute outfit on some other guy. The ensemble consists of gray herringbone pants, dark blue striped button up and a blue military inspired wool sweater with fantastic button details. I don’t usually care about what I wear to work. I work with a group of straight guys who wear pleated pants (and the occasional lesbian), so nobody really pays much attention to me clothes-wise. But today, I’m thinking about going home for lunch and changing. I feel like flubber. The sweater is bunching in all the wrong places and I guess I’ve gained weight since I bought the shirt, because that last button was just a little tight this morning.

I know we all obsess about how our appearance, our weight, etc. I also know that I don’t eat right and don’t exercise as much as I should. So, really the onus is back on me if I’m not happy with myself. But, when you have a list of 100 things, it kind of makes it seem pointless to try. About a year ago, I weighed almost 20 pounds less than I do now and even then, I was the same level of unhappy with myself.

I didn’t want to turn this into a pity party and my apologies if I did. But if you see me today in the blue sweater, don’t judge, I can’t dress myself.