Confiscated & corroded by the ugliness that plays ping-pong on your insides. Pouncing negative not just to but fro. In your gut. You sense it; you re-adjust your shoulders and add a subtle head shake as if to flick it off from your internal layers. Frumpy & fickle adorns you. They're heavy & on backwards. And their tags itch. You want rid of this impostor that claims to be you.
That's when you know you've been consumed. With one massive gulp & swallow, you're ingested. And the procession of weary diminishes any sense of defense you might have. Emotionally & Psychologically. Well, blame them. Smack big stickers that plaster the cap locked script: GUILTY across their chests. They are the ones that have left you barely there in psychical stature.
That's been me for the past 10 days. Barely. And we can just leave the "there" as a watermark equally diluted & transparent. The tags of me have itched. They have been so very uncomfortable and clingy just the same. Influenza type B followed by bronchitis are the psychical articles of clothing that have been hanging in my closet. Their hanger time on my rod was just the outward fashion of my inward infected.
I am not typically a negative person. I have never found good fortune in the Eeyore lifestyle, nor am I one to gravitate towards pins in my tail. I do, however, love a good bow. In general, I don't live life with a pessimistic coat draped around me constructed out of some dreadful, chintzy fabric. I love to laugh. And to smile. And to be silly. Yes, silly is so nice!
Yet there is this part of me that wages war in my heart. It's equally a component of my outward composure if you want truth. It's called doubt. It's absolutely out of style. Ridiculously tacky too. And I own it. And it owns me more than I care to admit.
My ability to create is one of the best frocks I fashion. It's like my go-to pair of jeans. My favorite heels or the cardigan that one can't live without. I trust its presence in me. I feel life more in my hands because of this gift even. And it's when I allow myself to really maximize this favorite hanging there inside me, that doubt does it dowdy best.
Creating meghancobble.com was my dream. It's no longer one that lives inside my slumbers & scribbly steno pads. Stretching myself to make this a reality required me to pair myself with hope. This new place was created with vision and with a holy prayer that readers would feel a connection from a place where inspiration, creativity & real are joined. And because of this, I could continue to do my part to financially assist Kenny with our family.
And it wasn't long after my launch with this story that I began to feel those itchy tags of me. Doubt began its dowdy best. And within no time, I was flat on my back with fever.
But you know what happens when you admit you're barely there? You allow hope's hand to really hold yours. And hope cares not about your closet. Hope's look is one timeless. Its fabric is woven from a holy thread. And Hope comes to not just for your hand, but to cover you with style. That's what happened to me as I wrestled sickness and self. Hope came in the form of friends. Through people that know my size & who were completely ready to shop for my look when I couldn't. These friends spoke truth to me. They cussed with me and handed me doses of real just the same. These friends brought back to me my smile with the reminder of what I love most hanging in my closet.
Being barely there is a part of my life story. It's simply the way God chooses to remind me that I am not meant to dream without Him and that the humanity of me will always need fashion advice.
And there's nothing more trending than knowing just how comfortable hope feels when barely there is the best you've got.
- leopard print shift dress: $3.00 Goodwiil
- booties: Clark brand; Ross $12.99