Outfit of the Day
As a child, one of my favourite things to do was to dress up- just like many little girls all across the world. Somehow, I struggled to feel really part of the 'little girls' club. Looking back now my tastes were as feminine as many but I did often come across as bratty and strong, I liked to prove my toughness by taking on challenges, I would not allow myself to be athletically outdone by a boy (if I could help it) and I taught myself two things: a) not to cry when hurt and b) not to laugh when tickled. When I could, I ran with the boys, keeping up with their shenanigans and returning home grubby. I did have girl friends but I would weary of their impenetrable social rules and love of standing around gossiping. My hair was close cut and curly, a great favourite with the old ladies my mum would stop and chat to, as they patted my head fondly and said 'What lovely hair your son has' - I didn't correct them.
I was always fascinated by women, I wanted to be one - one day. You know women, those mythical creatures with clipped transatlantic accents and gloves that pushed past their elbows as they reached into their box handbags to re-powder their delicate button noses. I think it is fair to say I had a rather distorted viewpoint of women. One version, the one I was surrounded by, were sturdily built, with ugly shoes and sensible clothing- no makeup and wiry greying hair - no hint of sexuality only child bearing hips. Back in the 1980s, the evangelical Christian woman was built for practical purposes, much like a Trabant. Of course, I had found my version from somewhere. I was allowed to watch 1950s and 1960s films, the ones where the women are perfect and even if they begin rough around the edges they find themselves right, fulfilled in complete femininity, wife material or family making.
Perhaps unsurprisingly, puberty did not go so well; the transformation of a rough 'n' tumble carefree boyish girl into a woman was a painful time. With the help of therapy I can write the recipe: a fistful of suppression, a whole handful of unfounded fantasy and zero tsps of women role models and not a sprinkling of healthy friendships, I ended up with a whole cake of hate-yourself. I think the modern parlance is Body Dysmorphic Disorder.
When I was a child a dressing up box was an opportunity - to imagine, to imitate and most of all to play. Do you remember when you could play through what you wore? I am very happy to be embarking on a journey where my goal is to rediscover the joy of playing dress-up and I fully intend to get more confident, brighter and bolder. I am happy to say it has been a long time since I felt anywhere near as hideous as I believed I was those years ago, but I suspect that anyone who has had similar experiences will know that the shadow is always there and self-love is a life long journey. My OutfitofTheDay #OOTD is my way of shining light onto those shadows and to acknowledge some of us will never give up trying to find that one beautiful piece that will, perhaps for moment, be the best thing we have in our dressing up box.
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