Last year, I started exploring the plus size world again.
When I was in my twenties the BBW (Big Beautiful Woman) and BHM (Big Handsome Man) movement helped me gain confidence – I’d been in a long term relationship and whilst never being slender, my size over 6 years had ballooned. I was a big girl, and though as many who knew me then would say, I knew my own style, there were times (there still are) when I feel unhappy – with other people’s attitudes, with my own self esteem, with how I felt about myself.
Eventually, I lost weight and went from a size 28, down to a size 12 and again struggled. I’d actually gone too far. Lost myself. Didn’t feel like myself, and it was harder to deal with than with the weight I’d lost.
Finally, now, I’m comfortable. I’m around a size 16 (sometimes a little bigger, sometimes a little smaller), but I’m happy. I’m actually more confident in what my body can do, and more accepting of myself than I have been for years. And I’m accepting my lumpy bumpy bits. I’m even finding myself feeling sexy again. A little bit.
So the opportunity to visit another plus size event, the Curvy Convention, down in London attracted me. I knew some of the ladies going, was interested in a lot of the brands going, and the excuse for another overnighter in London drew me.
There was only one issue. I was going to be in a room with young, gorgeous, plus size models, designers and beautiful women. What the hell was I going to wear?
Much as I was tempted to wear one of my old favourites, like I did for the Curve Fashion Festival, there was a new dress from New Look I was dying to wear. I just didn’t know if I had the lady balls. It’s a bit… Well… Booby.
And I was going to be on my own, in London, on the Tube, with my baps out. To call me unsure would be putting it mildly. In the end it took a couple of messages from friends to kick my butt into gear and wear it.
Though I did cover up a bit for the Tube. Just in case.
Sorted.
The Curvy Convention took place at St John of Hackney, a gorgeous church that’s well known for holding events and, more importantly, embracing diversity. After all, that’s what events like CC do – people don’t care if you’re a size 16 or a size 56, what colour your skin is, what height you are, what sexuality you are. The events are to open the door to fashion and beauty for those who feel excluded from the mainstream. I know exactly what that feels like.
Here, however were swathes of colours, fabrics, fits and designs to suit everyone. Pretty dresses and cardigans from Voodoo Vixen, practical shorts to prevent chub rub from Tortz, and Apples & Pears who I recognised from Curve. It was hard to know where to start. The fashion shows were tempting, showing everything from floating dresses, to lingerie, and beautiful creations from A Rose Like This, and jewellery (if you can call it that) from Enjeanious.
I was incredibly drawn to the work of Silomo Boutique. Her clothing has a cut that is just divine. The fabric flows like liquid. The colours are varied, sometimes quite simple and even plain, but her work lets the fabric speak, and I could feel my wages starting to burn a hole in my pocket.
Then I spotted something bright blue.
Yes. I was distracted by underwear again. It’s becoming a bit of an obsession (I own almost everything that Vixen Curves has created, let alone the pretty things I own from Panache, and a review for Big Tights Company‘s stockings is coming up soon), but this from Fate, downright called out to me, and before I knew it, my hand was in my purse and it was on order.
Oops.
Watching another fashion show or two, I spotted Adele from Curvy Swan carrying one of the skirts I’d admired on the catwalk. It called to me.
Adele isn’t afraid of colour, cut or fabric. The textures in her fashion show were varied from thick quilted skirts to long floaty dresses, but it was a single skirt that called to me.
High waisted, full, in tones of orange, yellow, blue and green. With Adele willing to adjust it for me and mail it out to me, my answer was of course, yes please.
Thank you.
Dragging myself away from all the pretty things, (but not before pretty much commissioning a piece of jewellery from Michelle’s One Stop Shop) before I bought the entire venue, I headed back into the sunshine, and back to central London, throwing myself hungrily and thirstily on the mercy of Gail’s Kitchen, who spoilt me somewhat rotten.
Before meeting friends for an impromptu dram at the Scotch Malt Whisky Society before home.
This time however, I left off my jacket and scarf.
I think I’ve found my lady balls.
Everything, from train ticket, to hotel, to clothes, in this post were paid for by me. Except for the whisky. which was gifted by my friends. Thank you.