self-motivation with beer-handles.

[ 60's Mod mini thrifted, black opaque tights Target, black mary janes Hot Topic, wool beret gifted ]

I've been kinda, well quite freakin' incredibly, shy when attempting to pose for outfit shots lately. It's ironic as well because naturally I never shied away from any camera, having been the daughter of two really charismatic Russian musicians who lived everyday to capture each and every embarrassing moment that their darling kids made. 

As a teenager I became the typical self-conscious recluse: barely ate, head-banged to death metal, black eyeshadow galore, gaudy safety pin jewelry and a head filled with harsh life experiences that I translated into Russian rap. Eerily, as if a piece was noticeably stolen from me, I strayed from the cameras, gained a mountain of weight to 'protect' myself and hid from the world.

Five years later, I'm that girl again. Hiding from the camera, slyly offering to take everyone else's photographs. I haven't yet caught as to why I am behaving as such when, in fact, I should be embracing these vital and vulnerable stages in my sudden adulthood. Fuck yeah I'm not a size 4 right now, but how could I dare mentally postpone my happiness simply because of some dimpled cellulite and beer-handles? I need to smack myself upside the head, lmfao. Dolls and Kens...don't hesitate because of a few poundage, hell don't hesitate at all. There's more to life than just shying away from a photograph. If you can't see the value in that, then nobody else will. My lesson learned :D