Something about me
Feb. 16th, 2011 01:18 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jennythereaderI've spent most of the last 20 years afraid to try anything about my appearance. Afraid that if I tried anything unusual, or different from what people expected from me I'd get a bad reaction. Afraid to be told, yet again, that people like me shouldn't wear something like that.
Because it happened. Over and over again for years. I bought an beret at an army surplus store one summer, and was mocked about it by random strangers on the street. I gave it up after a couple of weeks. I wore make-up to school on my birthday, and was told by one person I looked like a clown and another that I looked like a hooker. I don't think I ever wore make-up to school again, and almost never for other occasions. My mom bought me a beautiful dress from a thrift store, and when I let it slip where it had come from that was good for a week's teasing. Quirky second hand clothing vanished from my wardrobe. When I went to the other extreme and came to school in clothes that I'd bought from Macy's or Bloomingdale's in NYC I got accused of showing off. Nice stuff stopped being worn. Repeat, with variations, from 5th through 12th grades. Eventually my wardrobe was reduced to jeans and a sweater or t-shirt.
It wasn't just classmates. It was teachers and friends and even family. Even once I was out of the sort of environment where people felt free to say cruel things I had been so hyper-sensitized that something as mild as the wrong type of smile would make me horribly self-conscious and make me question everything about my appearance.
It's only in the last couple of years that I've finally started coming out of this. I'm trying new styles for clothing, learning about make-up, experimenting with my hair, and buying quirky accessories.
When I asked for my friends input yesterday on an idea I had for my hair and one friend said she didn't really think it was a good idea, it wasn't so much what she said that hurt. It was that the way she phrased her (perfectly reasonable) objections managed to hit squarely on this still healing mental wound.
Because it happened. Over and over again for years. I bought an beret at an army surplus store one summer, and was mocked about it by random strangers on the street. I gave it up after a couple of weeks. I wore make-up to school on my birthday, and was told by one person I looked like a clown and another that I looked like a hooker. I don't think I ever wore make-up to school again, and almost never for other occasions. My mom bought me a beautiful dress from a thrift store, and when I let it slip where it had come from that was good for a week's teasing. Quirky second hand clothing vanished from my wardrobe. When I went to the other extreme and came to school in clothes that I'd bought from Macy's or Bloomingdale's in NYC I got accused of showing off. Nice stuff stopped being worn. Repeat, with variations, from 5th through 12th grades. Eventually my wardrobe was reduced to jeans and a sweater or t-shirt.
It wasn't just classmates. It was teachers and friends and even family. Even once I was out of the sort of environment where people felt free to say cruel things I had been so hyper-sensitized that something as mild as the wrong type of smile would make me horribly self-conscious and make me question everything about my appearance.
It's only in the last couple of years that I've finally started coming out of this. I'm trying new styles for clothing, learning about make-up, experimenting with my hair, and buying quirky accessories.
When I asked for my friends input yesterday on an idea I had for my hair and one friend said she didn't really think it was a good idea, it wasn't so much what she said that hurt. It was that the way she phrased her (perfectly reasonable) objections managed to hit squarely on this still healing mental wound.
