Sleeveless in Sacramento: How Shedding Sleeves Became My Personal and Professional Revolution

I just grabbed my Vanilla Oat Milk Annihilator latte from Dutch Bros and stopped at the stoplight to watch the world go by. Feeling good on a Friday morning for the first time in forever. As a morning news anchor, I used to get up at 2:30 am every weekday only to rush through the studio door late at 3:37 a.m. But not today. Dressed in another graphic tee, jean shorts, and Gucci slides –a typical Mae-day outfit– I can't help but reflect on how I got here. Not just to this cozy corner of my neighborhood, but to a place of freedom and self-expression that I've come to cherish. For me, it's always been about more than just fashion. It's about expressing and embracing the power of femininity. And it all started with one simple act of rebellion: ditching the sleeves.

As a young reporter, the veterans will tell you to pick a mentor. I chose Fox News Anchor Megyn Kelly. On air, she wore her long hair over big earrings, sleeveless sheath dresses, and open-toed red bottoms, at a time when no one else was. Hard to imagine nowadays, huh? There was no denying her style or her statement while she sat behind a glass desk. She was also known for her sharp wit, strong presence, and incisive interviewing style. The characteristics matched the outfits. Turning the cameras on herself at the end of a show one night, Kelly announced that thousands of people were writing to her asking why she cut her hair. Looking squarely at the camera Kelly said, “The answer is… because I wanted my hair short. Goodnight everybody!” 

Mic drop! Megyn was unapologetically herself. And I wanted to be too.

For years, the world of broadcast journalism has been a haven of tradition and conformity. Anchors clad in conservative suits and perfectly pressed button-ups, every detail meticulously planned to convey a sense of authority and professionalism. Yep, as a young female reporter, I looked just like my dad going off to work, minus the briefcase. But at 5’ 2“ inches tall, I found my petite frame literally suffocating under the weight of those rigid expectations. And it wasn't just the literal weight of the fabric, but the metaphorical weight of playing a role that never quite fit.

I remember the first time I slipped into a sleeveless dress and power heels for a broadcast. It was a sweltering summer day in Sacramento, the kind of heat that made you question every life choice that led you to a city without a beach. I stood in front of my wardrobe, staring at the rows of blazers and cardigans, feeling an overwhelming urge to break free. I grabbed a simple, elegant sleeveless dress and thought, "Why not?"

As I walked into the studio, I could feel the eyes of my colleagues on me. Some were curious, and most were skeptical, but I kept my head and my heels high. Others said, “Wow, pretty, refreshing, beautiful.” When the red light on the camera beamed on, there was nothing else to do but prove I could do my job while smiling. That broadcast marked a turning point, not just in my career, but in my life. I became the first anchorwoman in the Sacramento market to wear a sleeveless dress on air, and in that moment, I felt more like myself than I had in years. And it showed in my confidence. Yes some dresses worked and others not so much. I’ve had zippers break in the middle of a show and had to wear duct tape up the entire backside to hold it up. And yes, most days in the studio were so cold I wore my Uggs underneath the anchor desk.

But it wasn't just about the dress. It was about shedding the restraints that had held women back, hiding our beauty, femininity, and the power that comes when a woman feels her energy. Sleeves, with their tight grip around my arms, symbolized everything I loathed: restriction and conformity. 

For me, it's about being in clothes that make me look good, feel beautiful, powerful, and on fire! I always say that when I feel my best, I feel like I’m Michael Jackson standing on stage with his arms wide open before a concert as millions of spotlights bring his true energy to life. On this stage, I'm not afraid to challenge the norm, confident that I’m qualified to make game-changing decisions and be the catalyst that turns talk into action. 

As women, it is our life experiences that qualify us, call us to break free from the traditional restraints that hold us back, and bring provocative, challenging, and sexy ideas to the table while proving that women can be leaders in risk and reward. I chose to be positively, unapologetically selfish in one instance, and it created the excuse female reporters could use for years to come—as to why they have hundreds of dresses in their closets. (I got you girl!)

Finally, back home I hear, “You’re late.” I ran through the door just smiling. I didn’t need to say a word because my tee shirt said it for me: “Better Late than Ugly.”