I'm LIVE! Art Detroit Ep 2

In the summer, i had the opportunity to shoot with host, Sheila Grant from the City of Detroit's new segment called 'Art Detroit'. 

I was really nervous, but it turned out really, really good. This 9-min video will also air on Detroit Comcast Cable Network on channel 21 (if you live in the city and want the exact times just comment below). 

I encourage you to watch and comment on the video. Let the City of Detroit know that they took a step in the right direction by highlighting a Muslim artist in the city! 

Let me know what you think *Squeals*

xoxo,

Leah V

Why Does Female Empowerment Make You Uncomfortable?

I just had an epiphany.

By just being little, old me, by being a voice, using my voice, not giving two flying fucks about what a hater gotta say, I’m threatening people with my very existence.

I’ll repeat that for the ones in the back. The ones that are hard of hearing.

By being unapologetically me, I’m threatening Muslim men who are clearly sexist, Muslim women who are oppressed and don’t even know it or fail to see it, people from local Islamic communities who are stuck in their archaic and rigid ways of thinking, fatphobic individuals, and white women and men who don’t see color with my mere existence.

That’s crazy. Powerful. Odd.

Dress: Eloquii

I’ve been hearing things. Noticing things. Taking in the comments, sly remarks, and whispers of those around me. I’d like to think that I’m a pretty objective person when I’m not being completely one-sided. And, honestly, I have no problem with constructive criticism. Stuff that’ll actually help me, I don’t know, grow in some way. But some of the things that I’ve been experiencing lately has been ridiculous. If you’d like to paint a picture of me, then you better damn well make that shit accurate, or as close to it as possible.

I’ll give you a bit of insight without going into too much detail because I’m trying to get to a bigger point here and not dwell in the bullshit of others. A few things I’ve noticed are people either blatantly lying about my character, taking slick shots over the internet when they have nooooo business talking, and attacking me (my content) over social media.

“Leah V.” My friend told me, “As you get bigger, more people are gonna come harder with the faux-ness. It’s the name of the game. People are going to make you out to be some kind of villain. Talk shit about you. Hell, even try to ruin your career. Those people have no life. They are just jealous. You gotta let it go in one ear and out the other. Be the bigger person.”

A lot of stuff I agreed with but I’m a human being and letting negative words or comments just pass through without being affected at some point takes its toll. I also have feelings. Feelings that I try my hardest to protect. What does one do when they take the high-road but other people go low? Take the cheap shots as you sit there and block, play defense? And in most of these cases, you can’t even speak up for yourself because a web of lies has already tarnished your name.

Things like this really makes you wonder why people hide, shield themselves with the strongest of walls, and never put themselves or their work out there. It’s hard, man. This shit ain’t easy. Divulging my life. Admitting my faults. Placing my body out in the open for heavy criticism by strangers. By Muslims. Islamaphobes. This isn’t what I signed up for…

In between rants and angry outbursts and curse words of frustration and sadness, I figured out something. When you have problems or issues or you want to figure anything out, you go straight to the source. So, that’s what I did with one question: what does Leah V stand for?

I stand for equality for girls to be able to do the same as boys. I stand for people being comfortable in their own skin. I stand for having the right to decide how you view your body. I stand for one having the right to practice religion or spirituality freely and without the restraints of man or groups of so-called religious communities. I stand for doing what the fuck you want to do when you want to do it. Being you without rules. Twerking. Getting divorced. Wearing hijab. Being proud. Getting an education. Equal pay. Creating art. Exploring your sexuality. Figuring shit out on YOUR own terms.

The last question was why would something I stand for openly make someone else so uncomfortable?

When I started sharing my work, blogging. I told many, many people that I wasn’t a role model. I didn’t want the heaviness of that title to weigh on my shoulders. That I wasn’t a good person and that no woman, man, or child should follow me. That I wrote for me. And if it helped other people then cool. If not, then I wasn’t going to force it down anyone’s throat. You dig me or you don’t. I keep it 100%

But, see, that’s how they wanted me to think. They wanted me think so negatively of myself that I couldn’t successfully push my work, my stories, my narrative. I was told no, no, no. Write this way. Look that way. Don’t be that. You’ll go to hell with the rest of the rebel women. The ones who don’t listen. I just knew that I was going to hell for the way I looked, the thoughts I had, and my inability to please the other Muslims in my community.

They are threatened by me because I embody everything that they are against. They spew lies because they want everyone to know that I’m not worthy of the attention. That what I’m saying has no merit. Who had I thought I was? Breaking down barriers. Telling little Muslim girls that they absolutely do not have to get married at the age of 14, 15 to an old ass man. Telling them that they could be something other than a mother or a housewife. That they could travel alone and not ask for permission.  

When I post a photo. Post a bomb caption. Telling girls to leave that shell behind. I’m doing what they don’t want me to do: empower. Empowering girls. Empowering women. Allowing them the power to make their own decisions about religion, free of constraints, makes them uncontrollable. Free. And the oppressor never wants you to be free. They always want control. And tearing me down and others like me who preach about feminism and equality threatens the control they have over their wives, sisters, and daughters.

I’m here to tell you that although I’m human, I’m also part unicorn. Which means I’m rare, resilient, and easy on the eyes. Trolls, butt-hurt Muslim men, and Islamaphobes won’t silence me. I’ve come too far in my personal life and career to be scared off by some very mean yet personal comments. There’s a girl right now, sitting at home, perhaps sneaking and reading this post or has seen my Instagram feed. Probably hopeless before, she might be empowered, inspired to ask questions, be less conforming, be more herself.

My job as a writer, an influencer is to create a spark, and it’s up to you to turn it into a flame.

XOXO,

Leah V

A Look Into How We View Mental Illness

It’s cold in Michigan. Dreary. Things are dying. Morale is at an all-time low for a lot of individuals during the fall/winter months. Lack of sunlight. Holiday woes. It’s super brisk and your usual cuddle buddy is being a fuckboy and not answering your texts. Yeah, I get it. It’s not the most wonderful time of the year so says the holiday songs on the radio. 

I’ve been in my ‘mood’ lately. When, I say ‘mood’ it’s code for mental lapses, anxiety, depression, or all three. Depends on the day or days. And I really hate when I get into these ‘moods’ because I know that I’m feeling these emotions or I’m being a certain way and for the most part, I have no idea why. It can strike at any moment. Even when life seems to be ok or running smoothly. Then I begin to feel ‘ungrateful’ because I’m feeling like shit when life dictates that it could be a lot worse.

Oh, isn’t life full of contradictions.

I understand that these ‘moods’ are either triggered by some kind of hormonal imbalance, or a word, a face, or even a song which jolts you back into some repressed traumatic moment which leads to these negative emotions.

But meanwhile, while people are telling you how ‘crazy’ you are for even showing any signs of distress in life, you are feeling like a trapped bat ramming its little bat face into a glass window.

If you were a better Muslim, you wouldn’t have those sorts of problems. Take it to the rug. Oh, you’ll be ok, just remind yourself of the people who have it way worse than you. Yes, when someone reaches out to you about not being right in the head or not feeling well mentally, please continue to pour icing over shit and not deal with the issues head on.

Do you know how many times I’ve reached out just to be called crazy or told to suck it up? Do you know how many times I’ve been made out to be a jerk because of misplaced emotions? Do you know how it feels to have the outside not match the inside, how confusing that is?

I’ve always had ‘issues’ growing up but was too afraid to tell anyone. When I got to college, the emotions started bubbling over. I was aggressive, sporadic, and in denial. I’d have these breakdowns, privately, and withdrew from other humans. I didn’t have drugs or alcohol to soothe my problems so my outlet became fighting.

I graduated college at twenty years old with a business degree. I got married two weeks after that. More mental issues came to play. Aggression on top of aggression. The police were even called on me a few times. I didn’t go to jail. Not yet anyway. I hit rock bottom. I had no one. No family support. My ex had left. And my friends wanted nothing to do with me or didn’t know how to assist. I was alone.

I remember lying on the beach, tears streaming down my face on the phone with my mother. “I’m going to admit myself to the hospital,” I said. “I can’t live like this anymore.”

She tried to console me. Tell me what I should do. She apologized for not catching my issues earlier. But it was a little too late. I was floating beneath the clouds. Watching my life unfold in a painful, slow motion.

I decided that before I admitted myself, that I deserved at least one more chance. I was going to seek out a therapist. I found one at this little Muslim family services place in Detroit. The female counselor was a hijabi. She was Somali. She was the hand that pulled me out of the darkness. That’s all I needed at the time. I went in twice a week. I cried. We talked. I wasn’t eating. She told me to eat colorful fruits and vegetables. She told me to make small goals for myself. She even gave me her personal number when I felt down. To this day, I see her around the mosque sometimes. I don’t think she understands how much I needed her. How much she helped me.

To talk about mental illness in Islam or to even admit it, I think are very hush-hush. Like a lot of issues in our communities. I see some strides being made to make it more accessible, less judgy, but we have some ways to go.

After five years of extensive therapy, and after hiding it for so long, I am very much so open about it. Why should I keep it quiet? Because I’m Muslim? Because I’m a black superhero? Because I’m a blogger that posts cute pics on Instagram and my life is so fuckin perfect?

When, I go through my ‘moods’, I sometimes share it on Facebook. Not to get pity or to get likes. I share it because of the Muslim girls and women who inbox me, secretly, telling me that they too have the same issues and can’t admit it in fear that their community ‘wouldn’t understand’ or they’d experience ‘backlash or jeers’. But even though they are not at the point where they can openly seek help or be honest about it, they have me. Someone they know who has and is going through the same outbursts. The same feeling of worthlessness. The same anxiety attacks.

Just like the Somali counselor reached her hand out and pulled me back into some light, by sharing my life, my triumphs, and downfalls, I want to do the same for others. I want to be that hand that reaches out. And I want others to do the same. If you see it, you have a duty to help. Listen. Provide a safe space for them to breathe. A hug. Giving non-judgmental advice. It’s the little things that count. Those little acts of kindness that could make someone’s day and be the difference between them stepping into the light or withdrawing into the darkness.

xoxo

Leah V.  

Identity: I Wanted to be a White Girl

It’s embarrassing to admit that I wanted to be a white girl for a large part of my life. I wanted the two-parent household, the bed with the canopy in the suburb, the size medium North Face jacket, the long, bone straight hair that always got in my way, and all the privilege and fun that came with it. 

I was in my teens when I drowned myself in white culture. I knew their white movies, their white songs from the 80’s and 90’s, and I just knew that if I lost weight and became ‘flat bodied’ I could pull a white male to marry and have mixed children with, just hoping that they’d have a much better grade of hair that I had.

I had my Caucasian future planned out.

MUA: Madinah M.

Pasted on my wall and doors were pages torn out of magazines of attractive white women. I studied them every time I woke up and every time I went to sleep. I cried softly in my pillow wondering why God put me in a black body. A fat body. An unattractive body.

Magazines were important. They held weight. They notified me of the trends—what’s in and what’s out. Black faces were out. Black bodies were out. White faces, no curves, and long legs were in. Straight teeth, full lips, and light hair was in. Smooth skin, cinched waist, and narrow noses were in. I had none of those attributes. And would never attain any without the help of cosmetic procedures.

I hated myself and no one even knew. I hid my identity issues behind aggression and haughtiness. I was that bitch. That no one could mess with, penetrate, or compete with. But in that mindset, I was stagnant and didn’t even know it. I was closed and warped. I was a white woman trapped in a fat body. I was confused and misunderstood. I was a ball of contradictions. Dying inside, nowhere to turn, no one to talk to about it, no role model to seek out.

Vest: Society+

Just thinking about it now, makes me sad. Makes me angry. It also makes me ponder, how many other girls out there are going through this silent identity crisis? Competing against magazine reality? Wanting to be something that they could never be?

The magazines I trusted and idolized, the magazine that utilized only one model of color in the entire spread who was usually on the lighter side or mixed had betrayed me. The media only highlighting rail-thin models who were as tall as giraffes betrayed me. Those very white movies that I studied weren’t real at all because white-based happy endings didn’t happen in my black, Muslim world. All of it was a sham. Created solely to boost the agenda of what the standard of beauty was and to degrade another. Photoshopped covers of Paris Hilton and Britney Spears was all I could think of. How smooth their skin was, no stretch marks, both breasts the same size, not one hair out of place. I believed that they had attained perfection. That God had given them complete bodily perfection.

Model: Leah V,

Until I figured out that the media wasn’t for me. For us. For the underrepresented. The disabled. The dark. The short. The so-called unattractive. The Muslim.

I had to hit rock bottom before I realized who I was. Who I really was as a person from the inside out. And on the inside, I was not a white woman. I no longer wanted to be a white woman. God didn’t make me a white woman for a reason. And I had become content with that fact. I dived in my blackness wholeheartedly like a mermaid. I created my own beauty standards. Producing my own body positive and beauty campaigns with my own funds. My blood. My mental illnesses.

I stopped believing in those magazines. That reality TV show. Those airbrushed and photoshopped photos that I silently died to attain and started believing in my own abilities. My skills. And I emerged as a stronger black woman. A proud black woman. A crazy Muslim girl in her voluptuous hips and thoughtful mind.

xoxo

Leah V.

Style: First Time Wearing A Bisht

In Westernized fashion, they tend to believe that the clothes must accentuate the female body, hug her curves delicately. And of course, I thought the same way. If it didn’t have a shape, then I wasn’t touching it. I was already plus-size; I’d look like a garbage bag for sure.

Since I became a style blogger, I’ve been a lot more ‘out there’ with my fashion choices. I like to up the risk and try new things. Also, I’m waaaaay more comfortable with my body now, so anything goes!

It was the last week in Ramadan. My friends from Yemen invited us to a feast fit for a king, and to top it off, they had the hookahs in rotation. I thought that the night couldn’t get any better. One of the Yemini women had a wide set of hips, small waist, and petite chest. Similar to my body type. Between puffs of smoke, we chatted about shopping and how hard it was to find fashionable items for us ‘hippy’ gals.

Her eyes widened. “I have something for you,” she said and disappeared into the back room.

She brought out a black and gold embroidered bisht. It’s like an oversized abaya. I’m not sure where it’s origins are in the Middle East but trying it on felt like I had instantly turned into Arab royalty. I paraded around her living room, gushing about how beautiful it was. I finally took it off and placed it back on the hanger. I handed it to her.

She put her hand up and shook her head. “It’s yours.”

I died.

A happy yet fashionable death.

Xoxo

Leah V.

Body Image: How to Get Over It

You can’t. Not ever fully.

Life is full of ups and downs when it comes to how we, as women, perceive ourselves.

The most bomb-looking girl has body image issues. Whether she divulges it or not.

And a lot of people won’t.

We keep our “problem” areas to ourselves. So we don’t look weak. Dumb. Low self-esteem. Whatever.

Photo: Lil Miss JB Style

I’m a body positive style blogger. If you look at my Instagram you’ll see my face beat, ensembles on point, and turbans wrapped to perfection.

To the naked eye, I look like I have it going on! Not one worry in my little world of fabulosity.

What people didn’t see was that a few days ago, I had a breakdown. And thought I was the ugliest thing to ever walk the earth.

Today, I’m back on track. A little.

But this week has been tough for my own body image. Self-esteem. Morale. Etc.

Next week will probably be much better, Insh’allah.

And this is OK!

Tulle Skirt: Society + (Purchase Here)

The problem with society is that they believe that girls, women should be confident, at the top of their games, and oh-so-perfect at all times.

Unrealistic.

We are hairy. We burp. We hate our bodies. We love our bodies. We cover them. Some of us don’t. We love. We shout. And some of us are more of a man than an actual man. LOL.

Body image is how we view ourselves regularly.

And sometimes, they can be totally extreme.

But I just want you to know that however you view yourself is OK.

You are allowed to just BE.

Photo: Lil Miss JB Style

I will leave you with one thing, because I’m feeling extremely 70’s hippy right now.

You are gorgeous. You’re smart. And you have a wonderful smile that illuminates even the darkest of nights.

I want you to find something you adore about yourself. Then say it out loud. At least three times. And mean it! Then I want you to find something you love about another girl and tell her, out loud!

XOXO

Leah V.

Confessions of a Content Fat Girl: Late 20’s Reflections

*Covers face* I’ve totally neglected my blog for the past few weeks. I’M SORRY. No, I really am. It’s almost midnight and here I am blogging. Today has been super humid, I’ve been groggy, and I’m looking for a new place. Packing. Throwing away crap I don’t need. And selling the rest. Ugggh!

I hope you guys understand. Life has been a loop but amazing nonetheless. And guess what else? My birthday was a few days ago. #LeoSeason. I plan on doing something fun and chill this weekend. So turn up!

I turned the big 2.9. Yes, I’m a year away from 30. Sounds weird to say. I’m lucky though, blessed, whatever you want to call it. Some people didn’t and don’t make it to or past that age.

But all this ‘growing’ up has me to thinking… You guys know, I’m an over thinker. A DEEP thinker. I like to reflect on what I’ve learned this year, what failures and accomplishments I’ve made, and to share what I hope to achieve in the future. My main goal is to reach you. I want you to learn something from my experiences. Maybe it’ll make your situation better, same, hell, maybe even worse (I certainly hope not). But I want you to take something from this.

Shades: Forever21 + Necklace: Charming Charlies + Shirt: Avenue + Denim Vest: Burlington + Skirt: Society +

Although major changes have occurred, I’m a content fat girl. I’ve never been so at peace despite the chaos going on. It’s really shocking to me that I’ve grown so much that certain things that used to bother the hell out of me don’t even penetrate my shields. And that very fact, I’m proud of. I never thought I’d actually be the ‘Bigger Person’. I mean I’m still petty, haha, but for the most part, I literally swerve any stupidity, bad-mouthing, and non-productive situation that arises.

What I learned this year? Let that shit go. You have choices. You don’t have to partake in anything that you’re uncomfortable with. You are allowed to say ‘NO’.

I’m telling you that it’s a freeing experience.

Skirt: Society +

Perseverance, but remember to take it step by step. I’ve learned to slow it down sometimes, yet still keep it moving steady. As women (and men), we put a lot on our plate. It’s ok to not do something at that very moment. What’s the worst that can happen? Is it life or death? If not, be fluid and allow yourself to breathe and reflect. There’s nothing wrong with taking a moment to reevaluate and then tackle a problem. Even Superwomen needs to rewind.

And the biggest thing I learned and relearn every day is the importance of the company you keep. I can’t stress this enough… We have internet trolls, family members, besties, managers, and randoms constantly reaffirming our fears. You need people around you that will dream as you do. Because dreams are important. I always had people tell me to take my head out of the clouds and come back to reality. I believed them, and I was miserable. I liked dreaming! When I figured out that they were trying to mold and shape my outlook on the world and of myself then I had to start cutting and blocking people from my circle.

Then I started adding people whose energies were supportive and genuine and good. This change caused me to explore more, fear less, and dream as I had done before.  

I thought this was the cutest thing. He wanted to get in on the OOTD action.   

In retrospect, I’ve accomplished more than I ever dreamed I could. Again, I don’t get paid to blog. I make very little money modeling, and I just launched a self-published book mostly on credit card so I’m in the hole. But even with all that, I’m surrounded by people who are ok with going out for cheap food, that can make me laugh until I pee myself, and who add zest to my world.

Money is great. Being married is great. Being attractive is great. But experiences last a lifetime. That’s my goal for the rest of this year and my remaining years. To Experience life and what it has to offer. And I hope you do, too.

xo

Leah V.

Fat Girl Style Guide: Color Blocking

Myth: Fat Girls Can't Wear Bright Colors or Color Block.

Why? Because it makes them look bigger or brings unwanted attention to their 'problem' areas.  

Photo: Danni Little

First of all, an area of your body is only a 'problem' if YOU make it one. If you decide that you do, in fact, have an area that you just absolutely hate, then my suggestion is to change it or learn to accept it.

We've got to rewire our minds and thinking about our body and how we view it. Also about fashion and style. Because rules are sometimes meant to be broken.

Color blocking is simple and basically utilizes two (or more) bright colors to contrast one another. So here, I have a white vest with a red skirt from Society+ 

Color blocking gives a clean, contemporary look with an edgy feel. And is a style technique that anyone can partake in, even fat gals and guys :)

Shades: Have H.I.P.S. + Turban: Flossy's Suitcase + Shirt: Wal-Mart

A lot of people ask me, as a stylist, how can the cover or hide a big stomach or flabby arms with clothes. I tell them that they can either wear black all day, every day. And that no amount or kind of clothing will 'cover' or 'hide' the parts they don't care for. 

And furthermore, why are we always trying to hide and conceal everything?!? Because when you take your clothes off, it's just going to all hang out there anyways. lol.

Shoes: Payless

I want all my fat fashionistas to choose some crazy, bright colors and try color blocking! Make sure you hashtag #LeahVDaily on Instagram so I can see how you rock it!

And don't forget to visit Society+ and check out all the cool new inventory!

Editor's Note: A Photo Doesn't Capture Our True Struggles

My blog has always--and will always--be a 'body inclusive" blog. I don't discriminate. And nor should you. All bodies are amazing bodies. Idgaf who says otherwise. But I want to talk to my big girls (and guys) for a hot second.

Over the weekend, I posted this photo. Check out the caption. Extra. I know. Lol.

@Lvernon2000

I'm getting old. I'm going through some shit in life. OK. So I saw this photo in my archives. It was an awesome moment. A moment of carefreeness. When in reality, at that very moment that I posted it, I felt like the ugliest person on the planet. I didn't feel like getting out the bed, seeing anyone's face, or 'talking' about the issues at hand. So, I took it to Instagram. I decided that maybe all the angst I had built up could be channeled into something more positive and helpful to the world. The picture ended up going semi-viral. I got tons of shares, likes (more than I ever had before), and lots and lots of positive comments.

Nope. No fat-shaming occurred...yet. LOL.

A lot of the comments were from women from all around the world praising me for doing something that I find easy and take for granted. But they didn't know that I was in bed feeling so eh! In retrospect, I find it incredibly simple to find clothes that fit, grab a photographer, beat my face, and pose. Even on my bad days. I find it easy to post my pictures, use all the right hashtags, and create a bomb caption. It's nuffin!

The eye opening comment was from a woman who basically said that in her country if you were bigger there weren't any clothes that fit, let alone did large women ever consider modeling.

*Jaw Drop*

And there I was in bed sulking. I was taken aback by her words. And all the other comments of women (of all sizes) just reaching out and telling me that I gave them a little hope and confidence to get out there and try something new. Even if I felt like crap, I was perked up by the love and support. They even trusted me enough to share their stories. A strange blogger from Detroit.  

A lot of us take for granted the small things, the things we think are easy for us. To someone, confidence isn't an issue. Yet half way across the world (or right next door) is someone struggling to hold their head up and look at themselves in the mirror. We never know what someone is feeling by what they post on the internet or, even, from what they say. Sometimes, the pain is buried so deep that it's hard to express.

What I'm saying is that we have to do better by one another. Stop judging a book by it's cover. Because that's not always accurate. It doesn't matter where we come from or what we look like. This isn't a popularity contest or whose the best looking or whose got more followers. This is real life. What we say, how we treat others, and what we type matters. And someone else is looking and searching for that someone who's going to bring them back up. The feeling of helping someone else, inspiring someone else, is enough pleasure for me. And, frankly, they got me out of my funk. When I read those comments, it's like wow, they really did that. And I got to put a little sparkle in their eyes, too. We kinda helped each other without even knowing it. This is where my enjoyment from blogging and social media comes from: The people. The interaction and sharing of information.

I really want to encourage you to inspire someone else--in person or through social media. However you do it, I don't care. Just do it! But the goal for this week is to uplift someone. Because you never know who needs it.

xoxo

Leah V.   

Curvy OOTD: Spring Is Officially In Session

In Michigan, it can be spring one day and winter the next...But I think it's safe to say that SPRING is finally here. So, since I've endured like 20 months of winter (haha!), I figured that I'd pull out all of my yellow. And do a happy spring post, in hopes that the cold doesn't come back for at least four months.

So since, I'm traveling, editing my novel, and working on a few creative projects, I just thought I'd pop in with an OOTD post letting yall know that I'm still alive!

Enjoy.

Wardrobe Breakdown:

Hijab (Scarf): Caniff Gift and Variety in Hamtramck, MI

Shirt + Shades + Necklace: Forever 21

Blazer + Flats: Torrid

Jeans: Burlington

Purse: TJ Maxx

Lippie: Colourpop Cosmetics (Online)

My buddy Madinah M. took all of my photos in the cold! Go follow her on the IG @theeebeautyqueen

And follow me on Snapchat @LeahVDaily

I'm also on IG @Lvernon2000

Curvy Trend: Nicki Minaj Collection & Torrid

It's cold in the D! Well, it was chilly in Traverse City, Michigan. My friends and I piled up in a small, white rental car and drove four hours to a rented lake house for a much needed girl's escape.

I feel bad for saying this, but I was looking for some black slacks and somehow, stumbled into Kmart. And as yall know, I have short, wide legs, and no one had anything that fit right. So, I'm in my local Kmart and stumble upon some gems. We've all heard about the Nicki Minaj Collection at Kmart. We might have had some preconceived notions about how her line would be, but I found this sweater in the clearance section that I was delighted to buy.

When I tell you this sweater is everything. It Is EVERYTHANG! Here's why I love it: a nice silhouette, doesn't ride up the back, long sleeves, and the zipper detailing on the sides. It went from the basic sweater look to that Va Va Voom ensemble.

I'm not sure what the Nicki Minaj collection for Kmart will bring for the Spring/Summer 16' but I'll definitely be looking out for any new pieces that I can add to my wardrobe.

Love the zipper detailing. You can actually zip and unzip them.

So now let's go to the second part of my outfit. The jeans! I only own one pair of jeans and they stretch and fit good. Nice length, too. I got those from Burlington. I wanted a darker pair, so I visited my local Torrid. I am obsessed with Torrid. A little pricey, but just hit them with those coupons and you should be good to go.

I bought a skinny jean in regular and it's a size 4. The stretch is nice and I like the length. I've only worn them once, so I'm still trying to 'break them in'. But so far so good. Hooray for Torrid. Hooking up the big booty gals :)

Wardrobe Breakdown:

Shades and Hat: Forever 21

Sweater: Kmart

Jeans: Torrid

Boots: Burlington

Necklace: Claire's