Whaddya think? I have some problems with it, as a whole.
First, the hat. I mean, I know I have a huge head, but man oh man, there is nothing like a cowboy hat to make that sucker look the size of Pluto. Not quite planet-size, but still damn big.
Remember, this is my father's hat. My father's. On him, it was not planetoid-sized. But I'm something of a more delicate flower. And, as such, I have not yet developed the gumption to wear the hat out in public. Plus, the hat is snug. I have no doubts that it would stay firmly in place if I were to take off at top galloping speed on a horse. But if I were to take off the hat, like at a restaurant? Major, super, colossal hat-hair. Not good.
And the belt? Lord, I need help with the belt situation. See, I'm a woman of many hips and muchas thighs. What those health-conscious people like to refer to as a 'pear.' (Tangent: I married a cinnamon stick, the third, under-discussed, food-shaped body type. Holding out hope the boy is more cinnamon-y than pear-ish. So far, so good.)
Anyway, back to the belt. What this pear-ness means is that, when I have a belt on and things tucked in, I'm looking a little lumpy. The tucked-in shirt always blouses up, muffin-like, erasing whatever I've got that passes for a waist. So, as you can see, I try the not-tucked-semi-tucked look here. The success of this is, well, mitigated, don't you think? I'm open to suggestions on how to resolve this issue. Anything short of plastic surgery, which is not in my current budget.
The long shot is better. The jeans are pretty good, don't you think?
These photos are courtesy the Lovely Mary. She took them at work for me, because there's something about a small editorial office that says Fridays is Casual Cowboy Day, don't you think?
The image thing is becoming a pressing issue. In less than a month, I will go to the San Francisco Writers Conference. I will talk to editors and other authors and, of course, my agent, because my agency is holding the whole thing. And when I tell people I write New Westerns, I need them to believe it--not even a flicker of a "Really? Huh," to cross their minds. I need to own my look by then, because otherwise, I'm just playing dress-up and that's just silly.
So let me know what you think. Keep it clean and positive, please. I'm plenty neurotic all by myself.