Tabatha Wharton



a year+ in the life of my evolving, offbeat aesthetic as i navigate being
a mid-30s-femme-grown-up-emo-punk-single-mom-graduate-student-non-profit-employee-fashionista.


This is the face of a woman who knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that she was about to be gravely ill.

This is the face of a woman who gifted the annual Christmahanusolstickah jammies to their recipients and took the requisite photos in front of the just-decorated tree, full knowing how terrible she looked.

This is the face of a woman holding on to some semblance of tradition and merriment in the face of all ten plagues descending upon her house and refusing to let anyone be robbed of the small joys found in the now less-new rituals of the season.

This is the face of a woman who would shortly sleep for nearly an entire day, rising only to tend to the needs of her house and also to let her body purge all of its contents, and then some.

This is the face of a woman who missed a week of work, two photoshoots, a 14-years-running now out-of-state annual holiday party, and who had to take an incomplete on a class from the past semester due to not being able to write the final paper because of aforementioned plagues and unpredictable bodily fluids and not being able to hold her head up unassisted for nearly three days.

This is the face of a woman who knew despite all of the (literal and figurative) shit she was wading through, she has done some things right, if even by accident and only by example.

And this is the face of a woman grateful for the grace and the understanding of the communities she resides within who helped to make this week, and this holiday season, no lesser for the troubles.

Purple & heathered grey striped PJ set: Zulily
Green “1989” Ariel sports bra: gifted (Hot Topic)