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deemoyzaOr, "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!
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!
