When I started out as a body love and advocacy blogger, I purposefully stayed far away from fashion posts for years. I felt like talking about potent political subjects instead of peplum skirts would be a far better use of a reader’s time. But I was kinda wrong.

As I explored the world of body love, I started to personally embrace my extra large shape. This eventually led to me to an outright refusal to follow societal fashion rules because… well, I no longer felt the need to hide my body.

You know the fashion rules I’m talking about. We've all heard the plus size rule about avoiding horizontal stripes... About wearing black because it's slimming. About wearing flared pants instead of tapered so we look "proportional". About avoiding small patterns so we don't look like furniture. But don't wear giant print because you'll overwhelm the viewer. Don't wear halters. Don't wear sleeveless. Don't wear chunky jewelry. Don't wear texture. Don't wear shiny fabric. Don't wear spandex. Don't wear baggy clothes. Don't. Don't. Don't. Don't.

But "LOVE yourself", the world still somehow tries to say. "Play to your strengths and hide your flaws!".

Two years ago, I finally said NO FUCKING MORE. I had been bending over backwards to follow these ubiquitous guidelines and because of this, the list of things "I wore but hated" was miles long. And the list of things "I didn't wear that I loved"  was even longer still.

It was only by ignoring the rules and wearing what I wanted that I started to realize that fashion was political. That the concept of not trying to minimize or hide your body was controversial. That the act of publicly loving your body, allowing it to take up space, and dressing it up in whatever you liked... was revolutionary. And this applies to all bodies, no matter their size, shape, shade, or age. When you love yourself, it blows people's minds.

I discovered the power behind choosing things I've longed to wear, but wouldn't allow myself to. Because it would accentuate my underarms. Because it would show too much thigh. Because someone would be able to see my scandalous cleavage.  Because it's too loud. Because it's too masculine. Because it's a drop waist. Because it's ugly. Because it's tight. Because it's loose. Because it's metallic. Because of all the wrong reasons.

And that's why I started a series of posts called: I Wear What I Want.

I Wear What I Want's became my outfit proclamations. Visual proof that any body could rock any look... and not die. I started documenting the smashing of personal style rules: strappy sandals crop topssleeveless dresses, vinyl mini skirtsswimsuits, not business casual, maxi skirts, AND short hair. It's been beyond liberating.
And in the meantime, (luckily for you) since I've started documenting fatshion, I've also become a better blogger! I learned this little trick where you share links so readers can find similar pieces and then everyone gets to look awesome. Apparently, I've graduated from Basic Blogger to Advanced Blogger (that knows how to link to things on the internet). It's not actually that advanced, but LETS CELEBRATE ANYWAYS.

 1 // 2 // 3 //

The velvet pencil skirt is from Hips and Curves (whom I love), the crop top is Forever 21's plus line (my actual top is from Target clearance *score!* and totally untraceable online), the belt can be found on Opentip.com (do you know other places to purchase plus triple-buckle belts? Leave it in the comments!) and the Joys Will Be Joys boots are my I Wear What I Want triumph for today.

Belts, crop-tops and mini skirts are every day wear for me. Seriously. The uncomfortable thing for me to wear? Boots that barely go above my ankle. It's really bizarre. I've somehow decided along the way of developing my fatshion style that boots must be at least mid-calf to look proportional (read: sexy) on me. That anything below this would make me look short and fat.

Guess what? I'm fucking short and fat no matter how tall my damn boots are. WHO WAS I TRYING TO FOOL?

I decided last week that it was time to ditch my delusional fashion rule, and rock these bad ass boots starting... now. The rocking of these boots will continue all winter.


[Update: It's looks like the above boots are out of stock (BOO) so I grabbed a few more equally kick-ass styles that I would wear in a heartbeat: this rugged one, this flowered below ankle one, this brand new just-out-today one, and oh, and this boot that is pretty much EXACTLY THE SAME. Win!]

[Update on the update! THE BOOTS ARE BACK IN STOCK!]

Now, onto the important subject of cat tights. Here's what you need to know: YOU SHOULD OWN SOME.

That's pretty much it.

And yes. I definitely write my to-do lists in green marker on my leg when I can't find paper. I also write these lists on my arm. And my wrist. And my hands. Both sides of my hands. Anyone else feel me on this? Anyone?

No one?

That's cool.

5 // 6 // 7

There were only a few #5's left when I looked, so get them while they're available. AND if you know where to get other cute plus cat tights, you know what to do! ALSO: CAT SOCKS!

(Just in case you forgot what to do = leave 'em in the comments)

SO here's my IWWIW Challenge for you: the next time you think “God, I’d love to wear that! But...” Just WEAR IT. Try it out. See what happens. 

Fashion doesn't have to be fluff. When I started to shrug off the fabricated do’s and do not’s, clothing started to embolden me. Clothing started to empower me. And clothing is now my statement. It's a way that I say what I want, when I want, for no one save me. And THIS, my friends, is most certainly revolutionary.

So wear what you love.
Wear what speaks to you.
Wear what scares you shitless.

See what it feels like to start your own revolution.

If you (had nerves of steel and zero respect for "fashion don'ts" and) could wear ANYTHING... what would you wear?

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