A lesson in trusting your gut.
Back in college, when I would proclaim myself “getting thick” when the scale tipped 105 pounds, I received two formative insights about my style.
The first, from a rockhead boy I wanted desperately to love me. A boy who once, as I sat on my twin bed post-coitus, looked at my hips and declared “You know, sitting down, you could trick somebody into thinking you were thick.” Tells you everything you need to know about my self esteem at the time. Point being: his compliments came few and far between.
Anyway. I’m sure I was in some combo of a sweater, button-up, and low rise bootcut jeans—all from Express, thank you very much—he looked at me and said “You look good in the preppy/work clothes look.”
A Girl Named Rob 