Nobody puts baillee in the corner

If you haven’t caught on, I’m all about body love. I believe everyone should accept themselves completely. I’ll also be the first to admit it’s a hell of a lot easier than it sounds. That’s why on Saturday, I let myself be a bit more vulnerable: I wore a crop top.

You might think that isn’t a big deal, but for me, it was. You see, the part of my body I’m the most insecure about is my stomach. That’s why I wear a lot of oversized shirts and a lot of tank tops and camis under shirts I deem too short. However, when I found a pink Marilyn Monroe fuzzy crop top sweater, I knew I had to figure out a way to bend the rules.

I would like to be able to say I immediately wore the sweater and realized much like the boy in any teen rom com who saw the nerdy girl without glasses that I was beautiful the entire time, but it didn’t happen that way. It actually took me almost three months to be confident enough to wear it in public.

I must have put it on a thousand times, only to psyche myself out each and every time. I was scared people would spew out hateful words and whisper to their friends, asking why I would wear that shirt with my imperfect body. After countless twirls and poses in front of the bathroom mirror, I would end up choosing something oversized. Something safe. Saturday started out the same way until a little part of me finally said, and pardon my French, “Fuck it.”

I spent the first hour or so trying to pull it down. (Spoiler alert: Trying to pull down a crop top and make it into a long shirt is about as difficult as comprehending every pop culture reference in an episode of Gilmore Girls). After almost hitting myself in the face multiple times (and many a’ reassurance from my friend that it looked good), I finally gave up and wore it as is. What happened next absolutely shocked me: I got compliments.

Not one but several. They weren’t the backhanded compliments I feared such as how I should be proud of being brave enough to wear it with my body type or how others wished they could look past their appearance and wear something revealing or the millions of other things you convince yourself people will say. I got numerous, genuine compliments on my ensemble, including my cashier at this taco place asking me if I was just in town for SXSW because I looked too cool to live in Austin. I was absolutely flabbergasted.

I never expected to be able to wear something that flaunted my self-doubt to be the talk of the town. It helped me realize how much of an emphasis we internally put on our insecurities. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve been bullied and teased about everything my hair to my choice of footwear, but the only person really standing in my way was myself. I was the one who wouldn’t put on the crop top to begin with. I was the one who was scared. Who cares what other people think? At the end of the day, this is my body. These are my thoughts. The only person I have to answer to is myself (and KP, obvs). Why was I letting a bunch of hypothetical ideas clout my judgment?

My biggest piece of advice to wear what you want. Ignore the cat calls and foolish insults. They’re just jealous because you got the last pink fuzzy Marilyn Monroe sweater crop top. (Insert emoji of two fingers making the peace sign here).