deemoyza: (Cotton Candy (MARINA))
[personal profile] deemoyza
Or, "Dee Figures Out Stuff She Should Have Known for Decades, Part 1/∞"

I've always liked to dress nicely, though for the past few years, I've kind of let that slide, simply due to my perceived inutility of it. I have a uniform for work, and I don't really go anywhere other than the grocery store or places like Target and such, so I figured it was a waste of time and money. But after digging out a box of old clothes and discovering that some of them still fit, my slumbering fashionista was once again awakened, and I've had a grand time shopping sales and picking up inexpensive makeup to play with my looks.

I think it's just another stop on the road to reclaiming my femininity, an extension of what I talked about in this post.

But perhaps the greatest consequence of this is that I now finally understand the power of presentation, particularly one you choose and enjoy for yourself. Because when I dress nicely, I feel and act differently--suddenly, I'm confident, and mature, and yes, powerful.

When I dress well, I find that I am keenly aware of my body and how it moves, and of the space I inhabit, and how I use that space. In my work uniform, or in old jeans and T-shirts, I tend to shrink into myself, to make myself as small and unobtrusive as possible, as if my very existence is an affront to society. In a nice outfit, however, I feel self-assured, attractive, and even a little playful. I am here, a full person with brains and looks and body, not a grimy little servant scuttling among other people's trash. Talk to me, please--I have a razor-sharp mind, a mischievous streak a mile wide, and an intense curiosity about almost everything around me. I am open to many different topics of conversation; I am not a fragile flower with delicate sensibilities that need protecting. I am mature and knowledgeable and absolutely willing to engage with others, given the opportunity.

For the time I am in this outfit, I belong, quirks and shortcomings and all, and nobody has a right to tell me otherwise.

And then I go home and change into my lounge-about clothes. My hair goes up, my makeup comes off, but the confidence remains for the rest of the day, if not longer. It survives pretty well until I am back in that stupid work uniform, reminded of who--or rather, what--I am. And from that moment, the confidence must be rebuilt, from scratch. But at least rebuilding it is fun and freeing.

And, in true self-centered fashion, I must say the recognition is very pleasant, as well. Super thanks to that lady at Panera who complimented my look yesterday! Friendly comments like that are buoys in a sea of self-doubt, and I truly appreciate them. :)

Yes, I am full of myself. But hey, a bit of ego is sometimes necessary to navigate this crazy world!

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Dee Moyza

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