I could have been a fashion blogger {WIWW}


Once upon a time, in the land that was the year 2000, I was a working girl. Freshly graduated and ready to take on the retail world. I watched Sex and the City with a notebook and pen, to jot down fresh fashion ideas. I bought every issue of In Style, I spent my lunch hours at the mall, and I never once left the house in anything short of full face make up and hair. My life was simpler back then. Just me and my fashion mags, my shoe collection, and my best friend, Carrie Bradshaw.  Dreaming of the day I would indeed become Carrie Bradshaw, New York apartment and all. 

Cardi/White T/Black pants: Closet
Shoes: Aldo
Scarf: Pier 1

I once bought a pair of shoes that didn't go with a single thing in my closet.  Stacked heel, camel suede pumps. The idea of them alone made my heart a flutter. I watched them for weeks as they were out of my "student loan paying, living with my parents, under paid" salary. Then one day, touring the department store I worked for they were on sale, and since I had my work allowance coupon, they were finally a price I could feel good about. I broke into a cold sweat as I swiped my debit card.

LRE Top: Kiki La Rue
Necklance: Lisa Leonard

Because I wasn't always this way. This flannel wearing, ugg footed, jeans, wearing mom. I would have never dreamed of leaving the house with out solid foundation, let alone without make up at all. Once upon a time, a pony tail was a sure sign that I drank too much, stayed out way too late, and skipped a shower to appear the responsible "non-smoking" adult my bosses thought I was. In my former life I could have been a fashion blogger.

Polka dot shirt: Target last year
Pants/belt: Closet
Flats: Payless

I once interviewed at FIDM in Los Angeles. My heart was once set on a career in the fashion industry, but alas I cannot draw. So I decided on stylist, fashion magazine editor, or boutique owner. I never went to FIDM, I didn't even return their video (on VHS, once upon a time) on admissions. But the dream of a career in fashion stayed with me for years.  Hence my retailing degree.

Top/Cardi/Layering Tank/Pants: closet
Shoes: Aldo

It should be noted that I interned and worked in the buying office of a regional retailer here in Fresno. If you are local, then you remember Gottschalk's. I had big dreams about being a buyer, buying trips to New York, and an overall foot into the industry I loved most. Its not that the dream died, but the salary sucked, and I grew tired on inter office politics. I jumped that ship for a job in the mall.  Victoria's Secret.

Sweater: Aeropostale (October 2013)
Scarf: Pier 1
Pants: The Loft
Boots: Kohls

I should also mention that my mother bought me a Vogue magazine when I was eight. She and I would have weekly trips to the bookstore, and while she browsed the bodice rippers, I would wander the stores looking at all genres, except for horror. Those Steven King covers stills scare the begeezus out of me. On one of these excursions, I found my way to the magazine rack, filled from floor to ceiling with magazines. I came across Vogue, wedged between Vanity Fair and perhaps Glamour. I opened the pages and was entranced by the beauty of it all. Then I was struck by a shoe called an espadrille. I had never seen one, but I knew, in that moment I had to have them. I opened a pair of espadrilles on my birthday that year. From that moment on I never looked back.

Cardi/Boots/Denim Shirt: Closet
Pants: The Loft

That Megan, who loved a life of fashion, seems so very long ago. Untouchable even. Somewhere along the way, exhaustion took over. The care and comfort of another was put front and foremost. Then I added another human to care and comfort and soon, all resemblance of that former fashionista disappeared. I began to leave the house without make up, I went days without washing my hair, yoga pants were my espadrilles. I went from Butterfly to Caterpillar, in a chrysalis of shame.

Lace top: Kohls (2013)
Layering Tank/Brown Pants: closet
Flats: Payless

It's increasingly hard to put your best self out there, when you have no idea who you are anymore. Motherhood left me vulnerable in the beginning. All self esteem, all self worth, gone. Why bother with makeup and hair, why bother getting dressed? I had time for neither. I looked like I hadn't slept in a year, I felt like I hadn't slept in two years, and I hated my body, what was left of it.

Entire look: shopped my closet

But just as quickly as motherhood can cut you down, she can also build you up. When the nights get longer, when the days get easier. When you finally get that shower, in the middle of the day, with one kid sleeping and the other playing with the iPad. Motherhood finally shows you that you can do hard things. Motherhood shows you that you are strong and resilient.  Motherhood shows you that you are more than dirty diapers, missed naps, and toddler tantrums. Motherhood can show you just exactly what you are made of, and just how lovely that is.

Entire look: shopped my closet

When you wrap your head around that, all the imperfections that make you a great mother, you can love yourself again. You can see yourself again in a new light and a new body. A body with battle scars, a body with stretch marks and extra pounds you swore you would lose when you were pregnant. You look at yourself in the mirror and decide, this is me. This is the new me. This is now who I am, and guess what, I actually like you.

Cardi and top: Target
Pants and Shoes: Closet

It was hard to rediscover me. I felt that I was lost forever. As much as I wanted to embrace the new me, I still pined for the old me. The one in the land that was 2000. When I finally crawled out of the basement of depression, I realized that I didn't remember how to apply make up or curl my hair properly. I realized that clothes fit this new body differently, and I had to get used to that. I had to find foundation that didn't make me look like I was wearing a mask, and an eyebrow pencil that didn't look like a sharpie. I had to find out what the new me looked like, made up and dressed up. Because she surely didn't look like the old me.

Everything but the shoes: closet
Shoes: Payless

It hasn't been that long that I've finally decided to like the way I look again. Once upon a time I was pretty comfortable in my body, comfortable with my hair, confident in how I wore make up. But it would be a lie to say that once upon a time in the year 2000 that I really loved myself.  I didn't.  I always wanted to be thinner, I always wanted to be prettier, or have longer hair. There was always something that I didn't like about myself. Which surprises me as I look back. But liking myself now is a totally different experience. Because at almost 36 I'm more sure of who I am and what I want than I was when I was the girl who could have been a fashion blogger.

Shirt: NY and Co
Pants: The Loft
Boots and Scarf: Closet

There is something completely comfortable in liking the person you are, and letting go of the person you were. Year 2000 Megan could not do year 2014 Megan's life today. She wasn't strong enough. She wasn't as confident enough, and 2000 Megan would have cried and carried on, instead of just carrying on. I was talking to my best friend last week and I said, "That Megan died", and she said, "Yeah but look at how she was reborn". That is something tangible and beautiful my friends.

Uggs/Shirt: closet
Aztec Cardi and Scarf: Kiki la Rue
Jeggings: Aeropostale

I could have been a fashion blogger, if there was such a thing when I was a twenty something drinking cosmopolitans. I could have been a fashion blogger that went on New York buying trips, or was an associate editor of a fashion magazine. I could have been a fashion blogger who styled the stars, or the starts wives and lovers. I could have been, once upon a time.

Instead I'm an occasional and accidental wannabe fashionista who clogs your Instagram feed, with zero regrets about how I got here.