I sometimes wonder, would we be so quick to poke fun of the people around us, if we were accountable for our actions.

On the internet we’re safe behind our shiny screens and keyboards. It’s easy to poke fun and troll. No real consequences there, right?

But what about real life. When you’re walking down the street and see someone different from you, maybe they are overweight or have a quality that marks them as different, are they fair game? If it’s behind their back or out of eyesight, does it count?

Haley Morris-Cafiero sought out to answer just that, with a series she calls Wait Watchers. After experiencing some public shaming about her weight while on vacation a few years ago, Morris-Cafiero decided to run a social experiment of sorts, turning the cameras on the very people who are mocking her.

Wait Watchers documents the way people react to her in public places. Moments we don’t assume are being witnessed by anyone. Moments where we don’t think we’re accountable.

I think it’s an interesting project, but are we doing the very thing we speak against? Making an assumption from a photograph the way we, ourselves, are often victims of assumptions about our weight or health or happiness?

I’m not sure. What do you think?

You can see more photographs and read more about Wait Watchers here.

photo courtesy Haley Morris-Cafiero and Salon.com

It’s sometimes easy to write off teenage girls with antiquated cliche. Girls who lose their minds at One Direction concerts, post millions of selfies on Instagram, girls who attack twitter users in the name of Justin Beiber.

I mean, look who we see representing them in the news and online? MTV reality show stars? That can’t be a career goal.

Thankfully, the truth is so much better than that; it just tends to get buried beneath the piles of twitter breakdowns and viral youtube girl fight videos. Over the course of a month, I’ve read the stories and followed the journeys of teenage girls who do so much more than that; girls who are changing society, not just for themselves, but for us all. I want to introduce you to some of them.

The Stand Against Slut Shaming. Katelyn Campbell was a senior, 7th in her class with a 4.8 GPA, and student body president at George Washington High School in Charleston West Virginia this year. Despite those accolades, Miss Campbell was not only barred from speaking at her High School Graduation ceremony, she also spent the better part of her school year seeking an injunction against her principal, Mr. George Aulenbaucher. You see, last April, Katelyn spoke out against a Christian Pro-Abstinance Sex-Ed Speaker, Pam Stenzel, whom Principal Aulenbacher booked for a mandatory school assembly. And assembly that featured such highlights as warnings that condoms are unsafe and that sex in high school leads to infertility and renders teens “impure.” You can listen to the audio here. So, because Katelyn Campbell spoke up against this assembly full of blatantly inaccurate health information, screaming and scare tactics, she had to seek legal action against the Principal, the man who booked a speaker who said things like “if you take birth control, your mother probably hates you,” or “I could look at any one of you in the eyes right now and tell if you’re going to be promiscuous,” yeah, that guy, she had to take legal action against that guy from calling Wellesley College, where Miss Campbell had been accepted, and informing them of her “bad character.” Katelyn was a senior in high school. She took on her Principal and the school board, and a whole host of others to have her voice heard, to make sure what people her age were hearing was accurate and balanced, and to have the right to do so without retaliation. Good on you, Miss Campbell, and it looks like Wellesly College is proud to have you!

image courtesy West Virginia Metro News

The Stand For Equality. Last Week 18 year old Florida teen Kaitlyn Hunt rejected a plea deal that would have labeled her a sex offender and placed her under house arrest for two years. All this stems from the two counts of felony of “lewd and lascivious battery on a child 12 to 16″ Kaitlyn is facing due to the discovery that she had sex with her then 14 year old girlfriend. The couple began their consensual same sex relationship in November 2012 having met in high school and played sports together (Kaitlyn was a cheerleader and played basketball), however, things took a turn for the worst when in February of this year, the now 15 year old’s parents had Miss Hunt arrested in her home, and pushed to have her expelled from school, a move they were successful in just weeks before her graduation. The Hunt family claims these charges stem of bigotry and homophobia, claiming the other girl’s parents blame Kaitlyn for “making their daughter gay,” that they were completely aware of the girls’ relationship from the start, and simply waited until Kaitlyn was finally 18 to press charges. But, Indian River prosecutors don’t see it that way, and are taking the case to trial. Kaitlyn and her supporters, however, aren’t going down without a fight. A Free Kate Facebook page is over 52,000 strong, a petition on Change.org has over 300,000 signatures, and Florida State Senator Thad Altman (R) is now pushing for a change to Florida’s laws on age and consent, stating “You would like to think this wouldn’t happen in this country, two teenagers in a moment of passion do something consensual and suddenly one is facing fifteen years in prison…” Because yes, if convicted, Miss Hunt could face 15 years in prison.

image courtesy NY Daily News

The Stand For Respect. You can’t throw a rock and not hit a body image story these days, which is a double edge sword to me here at Curvy Girl Guide. On one hand, I’m ecstatic our voices are out there, and on the other, I am anxious and impatient for a day when body hate, suicide, and shaming isn’t an issue anymore. But today I feel thankful. I’m thankful to Brittany Minder, a senior at Central Kitsap High School in Washington, for speaking out about being humiliated at prom and barred entrance because she violated a dress code stipulation allowing strapless dresses as long as cleavage was not exposed. Brittany and her family  feel the issue is that that due to her size, she’s going to have more cleavage. Miss Minder, who had to go all the way to Canada to find a dress she felt comfortable in, took the singling out as a “serious blow to her self esteem,” and now she’s speaking out, something that’s difficult to do at any age. As a large busted girl, finding dresses is hard. Especially when you want to dress just like your friends.

image courtesy ABC News

I’m thankful for Julia Bluhm and Izzy Labbe for taking on Photoshopping and the portrayal of realistic bodies in the media, including, but not limited to, Seventeen Magazine.

And I’m thankful the Spark Movement. An international girl-fueled movement to provide a platform for their voices to be heard, and change to happen. Their mission is clear,

“To demand an end to the sexualization of women and girls in media.” and to “to reject the commodified, sexualized images of girls in media and support the development of girls’ healthy sexuality and self-esteem.”

These are girls ages 13-22 working to promote positive body image and confidence for their peers. And I just don’t think you can get anymore amazing than that.

Are you a teen using your voice? Do you know one? Let’s hear it!

Updated to reflect the notation of Brittany Minder’s dress code violation.

On our way back into Seattle from a nice, relaxing visit with the in-laws (no, really), my wife and I decided to stop at Fred Meyer for some much-needed household supplies. As Lindy was busy filling the basket with useful sundries, I foolishly thought, “Hey, we’re going to a film festival in a few days. I should probably buy a nice sweater or something so I look half way presentable.”

Extra large. That seemed about right. To be perfectly honest, I haven’t shopped for new clothes in a while (I think the last time was for the L.A. premiere of our previous film, This Is Ours). I tried it on and, surprise! surprise!, it was less than a stellar fit; I looked lumpy, bulbous and
ridiculous, to be precise.

Like a sausage of fat stuffed into a sheath of gray fabric.  A sausage with man-boobs.

Naturally, I got mad at the sweater.  After all, it must have been its fault; certainly not mine. Some fault of manufacturing, I reasonably concluded.  I harrumphed my way out of the clothing section and started bitching to Lindy.

Deep down, I knew that I had been steadily gaining weight over the last year. I just didn’t want to admit it. I had clothes that sorta-kinda worked – old, worn-in jeans and some rather forgiving polos* – and heck, if something started not to fit, I could always just blame a wash cycle.  And, of course, my trusty, nearly threadbare jacket that I wore pretty much every day. I mean, it’s Seattle – it’s cold and rainy (cue the Unbridled Self-Delusion theme song).

* For those of you who may not struggle with The Fatness, a note about shirts: button-ups look wonderful when standing; when sitting, my abdomen compresses in on itself and expands outward, causing the poor, innocent buttons to strain with all their might, screaming for their lives.

So right. Back to the bitching and moaning. Why do I even bother? Clothes never fit me! Fucking Fred Meyer! Ugh, I’ll just wear my jacket the whole time! Whatever. You know, pretty much like a five-year-old.  No, exactly like a five-year-old.

For the sake of brevity, I’m going to truncate the rest of the conversation; while a few moments are missing, rest assured: it is emotionally accurate…

“I think you have crutches,” Lindy said.

“What the hell?” I snorted in petulant, pugnacious retort.

“Your polos, your jacket – they’re just crutches. You wear them every day.”  She sighed here, knowing what was sure to unfold.

“You know I love you, right?”

“Yeah…”

“You’re hiding. Your jacket is basically a security blanket.  You haven’t felt good about yourself in what, months?  Years?  And so you wrap yourself up in clothes you think are hiding everything you hate about yourself.”

In an act of remarkable love, she punched me in the face with a brick of razor-sharp insight.

I mean, I had thought all of those things, but I dared not say them aloud.  And to hear it coming from someone else’s mouth – to see a reflection of my own self-loathing – shook me to the core.

But first, I had to yell and throw a fit.

And cry.

And have a meltdown.

Right in front of an old lady just trying to buy a box of tissues.  Sorry, old lady.

It was all true, of course.  And with just a few sentences, my wife was able expose the throbbing nerve of my insecurities to the fresh air of reality.  It hurt.  It fucking hurt.

The old lady quietly squeaked her cart away from us.

And then, as the shock of self-realization and the pain of vomiting up two years’-worth (she was right) of hating myself subsided… relief.

It felt good.

I actually felt good.

I had finally confronted a part of myself that I had tried so hard to ignore.

And we got paper towels.

The psychology of The Fatness is a tricky beast.  At least for me, one way I acquiesced feelings of inadequacy, disgust, revulsion and animus was to eat – food is delicious and the act of eating itself is oddly cathartic.  But, of course, eating (and, in my case, over-eating) leads to The Fatness II: Electric Bugaloo.  Which leads to more of those feelings.  Which leads to more eating.  Downward spiral, indeed.

Couple that with a natural tendency toward laziness and the pervasive thought that weight-loss through diet and exercise is a daunting, insurmountable, Sisyphean odyssey, and you have the perfect petri dish for cultivating a spare tire.

Seriously, I can’t tell you how many times I have sat on the couch shoveling lunch meat into my face uttering that ugly, terrible, self-defeating question: “why bother?”

Hey, “Why Bother”?  Yeah, you, over there.  Standing next to “I’m Not Worth It” and “Whatever.”  Why don’t you go fuck yourself.

So.  Now.  Revelation is great.  But having a plan of action is even better.

STEP 1: Dress nicer.  Create and cultivate confidence through my appearance.  Another “funny” (not so much “ha ha” funny, more “I should just kill myself” funny) trick of The Fatness: I never want to buy new clothes because I always think, “Yeah, but I’m not happy with the way I look. If I buy clothes now, I’m effectively incentivizing myself to not be healthier.”  It almost makes sense… if you’re a crazy person.  What happens when I think like this?  I end up wearing the same clothes for six fucking months and feeling miserable about myself.  Rinse and repeat.  Did I mention “downward spiral” yet?

Nicer jeans, nicer shirts, slacks.  Yes.  If I start to dress better, I’ll start to feel better, which will make me want to act better.  I have actually done this experiment before.  It works.  I’m just an idiot and chose to ignore the facts in favor of feelings.  Good job, brain!  It does mean having to shop in the Big ‘n’ Tall section for now, but that will soon change.

STEP 2: Eat better, eat less. I do generally eat food that’s good for me.  I just eat way too much of it.  Like, probably three times as much. Every meal, every day.  This needs to stop.  But, I also need to not kid myself into thinking that I always eat well; I need to kill my vices (primarily candy and salty snacks).

Now, I think we all know that diets don’t work.  Lifestyle changes do.  This is going to be hard and also has to be a multi-pronged.  First, I need to make radical changes in consumption so that I can become conscious and aware of what I’m eating and how much I actually need to eat.  Then, I need to find the equilibrium point that makes me feel satiated but not full (my general modus operandi when eating is to gorge myself until my stomach pleads for mercy; this is probably bad).  And then I need to make sure that every time I do eat, I’m making choices that are fulfilling.

For my weird brain, this basically means two things: a) math; and b) not thinking of it as saying “NO” to certain types of food, but rather saying “YES” to not feeling like shit an hour after I eat it.  “Will this food make me feel good, both digestively and emotionally?”  The math part is a simple input/output equation.  I burn X calories per day, thus I need to consume Y calories per day to create a deficit.  I am fully aware that our bodies are not perfect machines in this regard, but at least it’s something quantitative that I can hold onto.  Remember: my brain is weird.

STEP 3: Exercise. I’m going to start this slow, doing things I can do by myself at home (partially because I fear if I put too much on my plate, pun intended, I will find it too easy to give up).  One might call it a caveman workout – no gyms, no weird equipment.  The reason for this is that I really, really, really abhor gyms.  I know they serve a purpose, but God damn if that’s not the quickest way to deter myself from actually doing the work.  I know my stumbling blocks, I know where my hurdles are, no matter how irrational and stupid they might be.  Time to work with them instead of always fighting against them and ultimately failing.

STEP 4: Be public about it. Please know and understand that what I’m going to share with you terrifies me.  First: back in 2008, I had a very similar epiphany about my weight and went on a nearly yearlong journey in which I lost 60 pounds (from 295 to 235).  I have since undone 67% of that.  This, to me, is an enormous failure, something I regret with every fiber of my being, something that REALLY, REALLY makes me hate myself.  But, we know where those feelings lead.  As Lindy said – I think by this time we had moved into a quiet corner of the Fred Meyer so that I’d stop making a scene – “You need to forgive yourself.”  I immediately wanted to make a Good Will Hunting joke, but she was right.

“OK.  I made a mistake.  But it’s not going to define me.  I forgive myself so that I may move forward.”

Second: back at the height of my initial weight-loss campaign, I shared my weekly statistics with a group of friends via the blog I had at the time.  This was so incredibly helpful; it kept me accountable.  So I’m going to do it again.  Successes and failure, I’m going to lay it all out there.

Yes, this is terribly narcissistic, and yes, almost borderline exhibitionist, but fuck it.  It works.

To start, all the numbers: I currently weigh 275.5 pounds.  My waist (at the belly-button) is 50.75″, my neck is 17″, my chest is 48.5″ and my thigh (when measured at a right angle) is 25.25″.

Sweet baby Jesus.  Just typing those out makes me not want to publish this.  But I’m going to.

There.  I just wrote that I would.  Now I have to do it.  Wait, hang on, let me rip the delete button out of my keyboard first.  There we go.

And so it begins.

For me, this is not just about losing weight.  I want to feel good – both about myself and in the more objective sense.  I want to be healthy.  I don’t want to die of a heart-attack.  I don’t want to get diabetes (which runs in my family).  I don’t want my degenerative, herniated discs to act up again.  I’d love it if my left ankle stopped aching every day.

My body is a tool, and it needs to be able to do all the things I want in life.

Also, I’d really love for a stranger to come up to me in a bar and tell me I’m sexy.  What?  Not all the goals can be lofty and meaningful.

Kris Boustedt is a filmmaker and educator in Seattle, WA.  He and his wife Lindy make movies together. And yes, they’re still married. Their most recent feature, This Is Ours, is now available on Amazon Prime: tiofilm.com.  He also enjoys getting distracted on the street by small dogs.  firstsightproductions.com // @krisandlindy // facebook.com/kris.boustedt

Last week, I casually mentioned I needed to go bathing suit shopping and thousands of people (or maybe just my six remaining friends) told me how “brave” I was. I started worrying about why bravery was required to go bathing suit shopping, and then I remembered that my ass looks like it lives down the street from McDonalds (which we do), so then I went there instead and never made it bathing suit shopping because there are too many cheeseburgers in this world already and somebody has to deal with that, right?!

Except that didn’t actually happen. But, it could have because once we start believing that bravery is required to wear a bathing suit we may as well find a vat of vanilla milkshake to dive into and drown.

What is wrong with us?

{digression: I also mentioned that  I’m petrified of flying and not a single person told me how brave I was for flying which is so messed up because getting on an airplane that you know only stays safely in the air if you wear the right colored underwear can be  really terrifying. It’s pink by the way. I checked.}

So when did heading to my very suburban mall to spend loads of my husband’s money to buy festive colored lycra that I get to lounge around in earn me a bravery sticker?  I want people to think I’m brave for like, um actual brave things (like eating soft-cooked eggs or writing a blog!)

I’m self confident, not self delusional. This body has bathed in Oreos and milkshakes for years. It’s also popped out babies (and other things)  and then nursed those babes and so now it looks like the part. But I  don’t care anymore, and also, I really like the way my ears look in a bikini. Seriously. Hot. Ears.

I’ve been everything from a size 16 to a size 8 (sitting somewhere in the middle now) and have always been tearfully aware of my physical flaws. They still exist (and the list continues to grow, WHEEE!!) but as my best friend in the making Cheryl Strayed has said,

“I used to spend a lot more time fretting about my beauty,” she says. “I used to invest energy in being a woman who turned heads when she walked down the street…I still care about my looks, I want people to find me attractive, but I don’t spend an awful lot of time or energy making sure that happens. I’ve let go of beauty as a primary source of power.

“I don’t fault young women for struggling with that. Beauty is, after all, the one form of power young women are granted, so why wouldn’t they bank on it? The fact that I no longer do has to do with my own personal growth, not with anything on the outside.”

What it comes down to is that there’s not a single fun thing that does not happen in a bathing suit.

Sitting poolside sipping on a Margarita. Running through sprinklers like it’s 1963. Accidently whipping water balloons at your cute neighbour then offering to dry him off. Now picture doing any of this in your Corral Gap Skinny Jeans and Mint V-Neck Tee. Ridiculous, right?

See, no bravery required.

Marci O’Connor is a freelance writer, social media shenanigan-maker and avid pie eater. She has crushes on tons of really smart people so that makes her a smidgen smart. Known affectionately as a non-housewife, her husband and two boys think she rocks anyway. Currently, she lives in Canada but often contemplates moving somewhere over the rainbow. You can read more from Marci on her blog, Being Marci, and on twitter.

Apple.

I know it’s kind of a hard name to hear, I mean, have you looked at an apple lately?  It’s not the sexiest fruit in the produce aisle, but you’re not an apple—you’re an apple shape, and that’s something you can make work (“werk” even).  For starters, you’ve got a great rack and some nice stems.  You may wonder if nature forgot to give you waist, and you were pretty sure Queen’s “Fat-bottom Girls” was about you until you realized they weren’t saying flat, but those are things a few special pieces of shapewear can take care of in a jiffy.

And I know you were always secretly hoping to turn out to be an hourglass girl or have admired a pear’s comparably tiny torso and lush tush, but don’t sell yourself short.  Instead, go buy some clothes that will help you rock what’cha got.

First, if you’re a shapewear kind of gal, I’ve got one word for you: torsette. I’ve heard waist cinchers are good too, but why just cinch the waist when you can cinch the waist AND smooth everything out? (Everything meaning the front pooch and the back rolls.)  We carry our weight on our torso, apple girl—it’s just the way our bodies are—and the oh so aptly named torsette helps disguise some of the lumps and bumps, while also letting us wear our own bras!  Smoothing out the python that’s seemingly wrapped itself around my trunk and still getting to wear my nice, comfy DD holder from Victoria’s Secret? Yes, please.

Next, (and my apple sister, we should have this tattooed on our bodies somewhere) empire waists are our friends. Now this doesn’t mean you have to Baby Spice it—there are plenty of empire waist items that don’t look like they belong on a four-year old.  Basically, aim for something that embraces your luscious bust, but just kind of hover-hands anything below the bra line (It still has the shape of your body, but it doesn’t cuddle right up against it).

And if you keep seeing something super cute and empire-y and then are appalled when you realize you’ve ended up in Target’s maternity section AGAIN, stop getting so hung up on labels.  Maternity just means a little extra room in the belly, and guess what apple girl?  That’s where we need our clothes to be a little bit more forgiving.  If you’re killing it in a super fetch maxi dress, droppin’ jaws left and right, does it really matter what section you got it in?

Now, remember that waist that nature forgot?  It can make wearing jeans, or bottoms in general, rather . . . challenging.  If you don’t get a pair that sits on your natural “waist” (that barely there indention in between the top of the spare tire and the bottom of your ribs) you’re gonna have a bad time.  You’ll spend all day either hitchin’ up them britches or bemoaning that sweet belt bulge you see every time you walk past a reflective surface.  I know that waist-high anything probably sounds like granny-wear, but as long as you’re not tucking something into those babies, no one has to know how high your pants go. And denim, with just a touch of spandex, is almost as good as shapewear (I said ALMOST).

As for trying to find high-waisted jeans that give you an ass?  I’m sure they’re out there, but they might cost $250 or something, and you can get some of those butt implant panties for like, $25.

There are lots of other “secrets” I could share (like how the right kind of long cardigan can hide a multitude of sins, and that a button up shirt that doesn’t look like it’s about to concuss someone with a button is worth all of our weights in gold), but I don’t want to give you a checklist of what to stock your closet with.  Sure I recommend sticking with apple-friendly basics, but there’s a whole lot more out there than basics, right girl? Don’t be afraid to try on something new and scary; we should pay attention to our shape, but not let it dictate every single one of our dressing room choices.

Above all, my beautiful apple sister, wear what makes you look and feel good.

Amanda Johnson is a mom, tries to be a good wife, and wants to be a writer.  She rambles on with absolutely no consistency (but plenty of curse words) on her blog, The Humble Narcissist.

“You must be Angie’s little sister.”

For the past 35 years, that phrase has followed me wherever I go. From Kindergarten to middle school band, from my first internship to Twitter, I have dodged and ducked, trying to escape being known as anything other than just me. I resented any inference – implied or stated – that people would know me based on my older sister’s achievements and personality.

But as much as I wanted everyone to know that I wasn’t just “Angie’s Little Sister,” I sure got good at following in her much smaller footsteps (That woman has very delicate feet).

In 6th grade, I signed up for band even though 3 years earlier my lovely piano teacher fired me. Because Angie did it first. When I was 17, I got a job as a hostess at a popular beach bar & grill. Because Angie did it first. After I totaled my first car, I got a Fred-Flintstone-Powered Pontiac Sunfire. Because Angie did it first. In 1998, when I moved back to Florida after a failed attempt at being an au pair in France, I quickly chose UCF and moved to Orlando. Because Angie did that first, too.

Each and every time I followed her, whether it was when her friends came over to play or all the way to college, I learned from her.

She taught me that a game of War can last six days and a leg wrestling match can last 30 seconds. She taught me that it’s okay to shop in the ladies department when the juniors made me look like a sausage. And this woman, who still can’t talk about her period, taught me that it’s okay to read smut and like it. But most importantly, she taught me that the person you hoped you’d always stand apart from, can also be the one person you always want by your side.

This summer I’ll move 1,008 miles away – give or take a mile or two – and for the first time in our lives (minus the crazy month I spent in France) we’ll be more than a drive away from each other. But, I know that these miles will not deteriorate the friendship we’ve built since the day she wanted to bring “all the babies” home from the hospital, it will only make us more conscious of the time we are together.

Although she tried to drown me on more than one occasion, she’s the only sister I have. And I love her.

So now when people say to me “You must be Angie’s little sister,” I will proudly answer:

Yes. Yes I am.

Jackie is a former corporate publicist, part-time PR agency VP, and full-time mom to a 4.5 year old wildling and a 2 year old mini-me. She is also Angie’s little sister whose only “did it first” was wearing a bra.

It could be the new hashtag, #afhatesfatchicks.

Social Media has placed upon our doorsteps the latest in body hate news, Abercrombie & Fitch and their distaste for fat people. No wait, fat girls. Just girls.

You see, Abercrombie doesn’t make girls clothes past Large, but goes up to XXL for men. You know, for the football players and their All-American popular kid muscles.

From the mouth of AF CEO, Mike Jeffries to Salon in 2006,

“In every school there are the cool and popular kids, and then there are the not-so-cool kids…”

“Candidly, we go after the cool kids. We go after the attractive all-American kid with a great attitude and a lot of friends. A lot of people don’t belong [in our clothes], and they can’t belong. Are we exclusionary? Absolutely. Those companies that are in trouble are trying to target everybody: young, old, fat, skinny. But then you become totally vanilla. You don’t alienate anybody, but you don’t excite anybody, either,”

I’ve been asked for my response to this article for two days now, and my immediate response was… Abercrombie & Fitch is still the in-crowd? Granted, I haven’t stepped into a store since the early 2000′s and the cologne fumes temporary destroyed three of my senses, but truly, I had no idea paying $200 for tiny pants was still a thing.

So yeah, I was a bit snarky and who the hell cares about the whole thing. Until I realized that for girls much younger than me. Girls in high school or college, who exceed the AF standard of beauty, this is a thing.

It’s a huge thing.

Because it’s another thing on top of a whole lot of other things that tell them they aren’t beautiful, they aren’t valuable, and they certainly aren’t worth designing for.

Because, you see, my thing is to keep pushing other clothing designers, ones not potentially living out crappy high school revenge scenarios, so that finding awesomely fashionable clothing for you and all your curves is a positive, fun and stylish experience.

And in my opinion, that’s what the 2013 in-crowd happens to look like.

And after seven minutes, I remembered to exhale.

Hey you, curvy girl over there, did you know you can be fashionable and have a blast doing it? I think sometimes we forget that, because for so long, the style choices just weren’t there for us.

And even as more and more options open up, it’s admittedly a bit of a learning curve trying to figure it all out. Dressing to shape, deciphering size discrepancies, working out cuts and proportions, it’s an entirely new lexicon from decade’s past of one size fits all elastic or pastel tie back tunic.

I am always looking for amazing fashion role models to inspire and remind us just how fun curvy fashion can be, so I’ve launched a new feature here on Curvy Girl Guide that will spotlight women who rock their strength, confidence and style.

Texas native and fellow ginger, Chelsea McGowan, does just that. Chelsea is one half of the Dallas/Fort Worth photography company, McGowan Images, and stunning portfolio aside, I have yet to see her in an outfit that doesn’t ooze of creative soul and leave me coveting her skinny jeans.

I sat down with Chelsea earlier this week to talk about her body, her favorite outfit, and what inspires her hour-glass style.

How would you describe your body?

I’d describe my body as curvy. I used to think that was just a euphemism for “fat”, but now that I’m here, I know it’s not. I wouldn’t describe myself as “fat”, unless it’s a really bad day. But I do have curves… hips, boobs, thighs & tummy. Learning to dress those correctly I think is why I can see them as really sexy lines for a body, rather than flaws that need to be corrected.

Tell us about your favorite outfit right now.

My favorite outfit right now is this red blazer from Wet Seal that I got last year for $17, Old Navy Rock Star Skinny jeans, and my v-neck Avengers t-shirt from Hot Topic. I wear variations on this outfit all the time, but this shape is one I stick with… cinched waist, low neck, long legs. I like my boobs and feel best when that’s the part of me that’s showcased, and cinching at the waist draws attention to how small I am at the ribcage while I’m hiding the tummy I can’t seem to tone. It’s just there, whatever. Everyone loves a marshmallow, right?

You are in a creative and expressive field, how does fashion play into your role, professionally?

I’m a photographer, focusing on weddings & boudoir in the Dallas-Fort Worth area and around the world. We’ve worked our butts off to make this business what it is, and being able to travel the world and photograph people is more fulfilling than I ever thought my career could be. You can follow our work on our blog, Facebook, or I’m on instagram at Chelsea_McGowan.

My husband and I are full time partners in this business, and we both work “from home”. But seeing as how we don’t photograph sessions or weddings actually IN our home, I essentially have a bipolar style.

When I’m at home editing or taking care of office stuff, I refuse to wear pants that aren’t cotton & elastic. My husband doesn’t understand why I keep buying MORE pajama pants, but whatever. I need them. Today, they’re vintage coca-cola pants and a leftover nursing tank top (my youngest is 3… and definitely not still nursing. No hate, just NO.)

But when I’m shooting clients, it’s a whole different story. I used to not believe it made any difference what I was wearing… after all, I’m BEHIND the camera. But I’m here to tell you, it DOES matter. And I’m not just talking about weddings, when obviously I dress like a guest in some cute sundress (or suit, depending on the weather & venue). If I’m meeting with or shooting clients, I make sure I’m completely put together in a way that reflects an artistic, creative, successful small business owner. It’s too easy in this age when everyone and their sister has a FB page for their photography business for us to get lumped into a generic group of people “without real jobs”. I command attention & respect for my profession with the way I dress, and my clients are confident knowing they invested in a company that knows their stuff both behind the camera & in the business world.

This is never more important than when I’m shooting boudoir portraits (my boudoir work is featured at Girls on Film). When I’m photographing a woman naked or in lingerie, she’s nervous. That’s just a fact of life. In that moment, all she can think about is what she perceives as WRONG with her body. It’s my job not just to take gorgeous images of her, but to help her not focus on those (usually ridiculous) things she sees. I learned years ago that I am better able to help a woman focus on her own beauty when *I* feel beautiful, too. So when I go to shoot a boudoir session, I put even more attention on my hair & makeup. I wear skinny jeans & a cute flowy top that will move with me, or a sundress with bike shorts (so I can roll on the ground if necessary). Aside from my talent & experience, I think an appreciation for MY body and the shape of all my fellow ladies is what makes me a good photographer.

Where do you shop?

For work clothes, my go-to place to shop is New York & Company. I can’t wear button down tops from them which kind of blows, but their other blouses and pants work really well on me.

For lighter dresses & pretty much everything else, I’m a Target-aholic. My husband jokes that it costs us $200 every time I walk into a Target, and really, he’s not wrong. It’s a problem.

What are your 5 beauty must-haves?

1.  I spend MONEY on my hair. Real money. It’s a specific color of red that’s on file under my name at Toni & Guy, and if my stylist moves, I’ll just die. No one else is allowed to color my hair except Jamie. Every 5 weeks, I sit in that chair and get re-redheaded, and it’s wonderful. It’s the biggest investment I make in myself financially, and I think having that signature hair color makes a world of difference in how I see ME.

2.  Spanx underwear. I move around too much on shoot days to wear full spanx (and still like my job), but spanx panties are cut high enough to hold me in without restricting my legs. Love love love them.

3.  A good bra. I said earlier that I’m really proud of my boobs, and that means I have to be good to them. In the D+ sizes, the Victoria’s Secret Bombshell bra doesn’t have AS much padding… it’s more about lift than crazy size enhancement. Let’s face it… size, I’ve got. But that bra puts everything up back where it was before two babies and yo-yo weight battles that stretched my skin out, and for that, I’m eternally VS loyal.

4.  I have allergies AND I work with my eyeballs constantly straining through a camera or at a computer screen, so my eyes look tired a lot. Because the color is something about me that catches a lot of attention, I want to keep the skin around my eyes looking as fresh as possible. I LOVE Garnier Skin Renew Anti-Dark-Circle eye roller… it’s part of my daily routine, even when I’m just working in the office.

5.  Mascara. I buy a new kind every time I get a new tube, which is admittedly way too often. I’m addicted to that “new mascara” feeling. There’s something special about pulling the brush out for the first time… I swear I hear the angels sing. Right now I’m super crushing on Rimmel London Scandal Eyes in Extreme Black.

Before you leave, give us one last fashion tip!

Don’t limit WHERE you look for clothes. I have a few stores that I know what sizes/brands work on me, but I also know that I can find stuff ANYWHERE now that I know what shape works on me. I bought two shirts at WalMart last week and have gotten compliments on both of them. I bought a backless sundress at Wet Seal for a party recently… I guarantee I was the biggest girl in the store, and definitely the only mother of two pushing 30. But you know what, I look incredible in that $19 dress. Learn the SHAPES that work on your body, and look for them everywhere.

photos courtesy McGowan Images