Social media content about style and dressing by 'women of a certain age' is something the algorithm delivers once we reach 'a certain age'. It's become a bright spot on my feed. What I see more and more of is women dressing for their own comfort.There's a delightful <a target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" href="https://www.instagram.com/vivthecarer/?hl=en">Welsh woman </a>who often opens her videos with: Don't come at me with this is not flattering. I'm dressing for comfort and because I love these pieces.That hit differently the other day.It made me wonder how we ever got to the point where comfort wasn't our first priority when it comes to what we choose to wear.Just sit with that a minute.When did looking a certain way become more of a priority than feeling a certain way?When did tolerating our own discomfort become more important than tolerating the discomfort of the opinions of others?When we dig deeper: when did it get decided what flattering was? Why does flattering mean trying to make our bodies look a specific way, rather than a comfortable way?Many of us grew up with our mothers' insecurities shaping our own body image.It's still uncomfortable for me to show my fat upper arms. To wear clothes that don't hide my belly. The belly that birthed four babies. The body that endured horrific physical abuse. The body that refused to stay broken. Despite everything this body has achieved, and the cost of those achievements, I still feel the performative need to hide the bits society tells me aren't flattering.One of our greatest acts of rebellion is to style ourselves in ways that challenge the social mores of the day. Every era has had its own rebellious style. Mods, rockabilly, hippy, punk. Clothing used as signal. We are not the boring norm.Maybe this next rebellion gets to be quieter. Less about the performative dance of adhering to a standard that requires our physical discomfort. More about choosing to endure the discomfort of others' judgement for the sake of our own ease.Image: Alt text: Close-up of folded fabric, soft focus, blue and white tones.From: <a target="_blank" rel="nofollow" class="Link_link__Ime8c clickable_clickable__wbzX_ spacing_noMargin__F5u9R" href="https://www.pexels.com/@karola-g2/" style="box-sizing: border-box; background: none rgb(255, 255, 255); margin: 0px; cursor: pointer; padding: 0px; text-decoration: none; border-width: medium; border-style: none; border-color: currentcolor; border-image: initial; transition: filter 0.25s; font-family: &quot;Canva Sans&quot;, &quot;Helvetica Neue&quot;, Roboto, -apple-system, blinkmacsystemfont, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; white-space: normal;">Karolina Grabowska </a><a target="_blank" href="http://www.kaboompics.com">www.kaboompics.com</a>

We were taught to dress for how we look. Nobody asked how we wanted to feel.

Comfort as Rebellion

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Comfort as Rebellion

Comfort as Rebellion

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