Monday, March 28, 2011

Outfit Post: My first kiss went a little like this...

Today I am wearing shorts with tights and boots. The last time I sported this look was in 1988. I had a really unfortunate perm and spent hours making mix tapes (y'all know what a cassette is, right? It's a demonic device that get tangled and twisted and eventually knotted into one gigantic mess that leaves you swearing and defeated.) I had also just received my first kiss, and drew the following conclusions about kissing and life in general:
  1. Kissing is disgusting. 
  2. Kissing is gross. 
  3. Kissing is overrated.
  4. I will never kiss anyone ever again. 
  5. Ever.
These sentiments were not exactly those I expected to have after fourteen years of watching the birthday-cake-sitting-on-the-kitchen-table kissing scene in Sixteen Candles, and the dropping-the-purse-in-the-rain-in-the-parking-lot-after-prom kissing scene in Pretty in Pink.

I met First Kiss during a spring break jaunt with my family to a friend's farm in Upstate NY. He was a sixteen year old country boy with sandy blond hair that fell into his eyes in a sexy, pre-Justin Bieber sort of way. For a week we swam together in the lake, went out for ice cream, and talked around the fire late into the evenings. On my last day of my trip he led me into a barn, through dusty horse stalls and towards a dark corner. I knew in my head that he was going to kiss me that day. He knew I had never been kissed, and that I wanted my first kiss to be with him. Plus, I was fourteen and scared that if I didn’t kiss someone (him) soon I would surely die an old maid.

He leaned across and took me by surprise. Instead of the lustful, drawn-out, passionate staring into one another's eyes I expected before our mouths met, I felt a forceful smash of the lips to the face and a tongue halfway down my throat (or so it felt.) It was too wet, too slimy, too aggressive.There was no romance. No passion. I felt disgusted and duped, but I also knew that wasn't how it was supposed to feel. Unfortunately, that kiss did repel me from kissing for quite awhile. I seriously thought that I could never enjoy it. Ever.

Thankfully, I dated a lot of boys after First Kiss, and I eventually learned that as intimate as a kiss is, it's even better when it's with someone who really knows what they're doing. One should not need a shower after being kissed. The lips should not feel bruised. And if the sensation of being choked is present, run like hell. Sure, there's a time for full blown, against the wall, hands on the face, unrestrained passionate kissing accompanied by the frantic removal of clothing. But then again, a sweet brushing of the lips, simple in its intent, is just as delicious.


I was thinking of First Kiss when I got dressed this morning. Surely he'd approve of my tights under shorts styling. Despite the fact that it's been years since I pulled off this look, I think I did pretty well.


What was your first kiss like? Did it intrigue you, or repel you? Do you think bad kissing is a relationship deal-breaker? And how do you feel about the denim shorts with tights revival?


Gap windowpane blouse; Gap Outlet tee (under blouse); Gap denim shorts) Gap Outlet belt; target tights; thrifted J Crew boots; Gap crossbody belt; Plato's Closet leather belt






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