I have self-confidence? wait, what? when did that happen?
A couple of things happened this weekend that I took in stride at the time, but now, looking back at them, I'm realizing just how important they are in that they are distinct milestones related to my self-confidence. Allow me to share -- if only to brag.
Milestone No. 1: receipt of my very first sour grapes insult
Remember Aesop's fable of the fox and the grapes? I'm reasonably certain that this is what happened to me on Saturday.
So breklor and I were heading to Club 23, dressed appropriately of course. For him, that meant his evil wizard robes with gauntlets and horns ("I put on my robe and wizard hat" indeed -- NSFW). For me, it meant platform super-high-heel strappy sandals, black velvet knee skirt with slits up the sides, and a candy-apple-red PVC corset with an ankle-length tuxedo-style coat over it all -- with the entire thing topped off with my shiny waist-length hair and crimson-lips pinup makeup. In other words, I looked pretty damn hot, and knew it.
So on Abbott toward Cordova, there was a knot of typical uninspiring clubkids, a couple of girls and a guy (maybe three girls? Dunno), all of them hogging the sidewalk because god knows that sidewalk manners don't exist any more. breklor and I were chatting away and acknowledged their presence only enough to avoid them, and as we walked by, the guy said in a voice pitched to carry, "So I guess one man's trash is another man's treasure."
Without missing a beat, I turned to breklor and sayid, without bothering to hush my voice, "Was that guy trying to be clever?" And then we discussed the relative merits (few) and weaknesses (many) of the would-be insulter's insult, both of us not bothering to keep our voices low. And when the would-be insulter tried again with, "I guess they're going to Honey," I asked breklor again, "Was that supposed to be an insult too? I guess I'm half dyke...but which half?" and then we chatted a bit more. "Hey...do you want to go to Honey?" But we had stuff to do at Club 23.
It was only later that I actually realized that the weak verbal sallies were actually meant to be insults. I theorize that the kid's thought processes went like this: "Hot chick. Wait, goth chick. She'd never want anything to do with me. Stupid dyke [protecting own ego from anticipated rejection by pre-emptively rejecting]." Had this happened to the me of a year ago, I would have actually been hurt and hurled back a venomous reply; in this case, I had already decided that these people didn't matter to me, so anything bad coming from them mattered even less, provided it wasn't actually threatening.
The nice part is that I am still aware of positive attention from people I don't care about! On the way back to parking, breklor and I were talking, and I remember saying, "You know what? I'm awesome. And you're awesome," and an unassuming skater-type kid walking past us said, "Yeah, you are awesome," which was awesome, so I said, "Thank you! You're awesome too! We're all awesome!" Plus some random guy at the Lamplighter shouted out to us as we passed, "Sweet!" So I'd say that evening was 2 win to 1 fail.
Milestone No. 2: wandering about in non-goth body-revealing clothing
It's no secret that I've been a big girl all my life. I remember being the fat kid in class for most of my grade school life, which, when paired with being the smartest kid in the class, didn't make me very popular. I remember years of humiliation from people who only wanted the best for me while they told me things that effectively amounted to "Your body is not good enough and therefore you are not good enough" without actually having effective tools to help me change it, so not only was I being humiliated, but I was helpless to change anything.
I was able to change myself in my second year of university, but this involved excessive, mindless exercise, as well as eating nearly no food, which had me levelling off at 190 pounds because my body refused to let go of its precious calories in the face of the scarcity I was putting it though. So again I couldn't change anything, and this time my SO at the time was making it obvious that he found my body lacking as compared with the other ones he was looking at. I wasn't happy.
Since then, I've gone through various points in the continuum from helplessness to intelligent, motivated action when it comes to modifying my body's weight. One thing that helped me was learning about the various precise measurements I'd need to make regarding my body so I knew exactly what was going on with it. Another was learning the value of training for strength, fitness and capability. Another was beginning to go to alt clubs and cultivating my fashion sense, which has never been mainstream, which taught me how to make myself look acceptable to my own standards at whatever size I happened to be. Another was simply finding people who had their own realistic standards for what makes physical beauty -- which happened to encompass me. And another -- and perhaps the most important -- was finding an SO who loved me exactly as I was, and supported me wholeheartedly in my attempts to improve myself in any way I chose.
Even including all of the previous paragraph, I've still had it in the back of my head that I can never win at the mainstream game, so I shouldn't even try -- which extended to wearing the mainstream clothing. Which made yesterday all the stranger.
I was looking through my dresser for clothing that would be appropriate for the bellydance class I would be joining, and eventually came up with a pair of Lululemon yoga pants I've found particularly useful, as well as a clingy lacy tank top. The clothing made every line of my body visible, except for my calves and lower legs (flared pants, yanno?). And then, without a second thought, I headed out for dance.
Let me repeat that for you: a lifelong "fat chick" put on skintight workout clothing and headed out in broad daylight without a twinge of anxiety.
I'm hoping that these two events are the evidence of a more general improvement in outlook and confidence in me. I'm feeling less shaky these days than I remember, and it's quite novel and exhilarating. I hadn't really expected to feel like this so soon after the Irish debacle...hell, I don't think I ever expected to feel like this in my life, let alone while I was young enough to have full energy to take advantage of it.
How things have changed indeed.
Milestone No. 1: receipt of my very first sour grapes insult
Remember Aesop's fable of the fox and the grapes? I'm reasonably certain that this is what happened to me on Saturday.
So breklor and I were heading to Club 23, dressed appropriately of course. For him, that meant his evil wizard robes with gauntlets and horns ("I put on my robe and wizard hat" indeed -- NSFW). For me, it meant platform super-high-heel strappy sandals, black velvet knee skirt with slits up the sides, and a candy-apple-red PVC corset with an ankle-length tuxedo-style coat over it all -- with the entire thing topped off with my shiny waist-length hair and crimson-lips pinup makeup. In other words, I looked pretty damn hot, and knew it.
So on Abbott toward Cordova, there was a knot of typical uninspiring clubkids, a couple of girls and a guy (maybe three girls? Dunno), all of them hogging the sidewalk because god knows that sidewalk manners don't exist any more. breklor and I were chatting away and acknowledged their presence only enough to avoid them, and as we walked by, the guy said in a voice pitched to carry, "So I guess one man's trash is another man's treasure."
Without missing a beat, I turned to breklor and sayid, without bothering to hush my voice, "Was that guy trying to be clever?" And then we discussed the relative merits (few) and weaknesses (many) of the would-be insulter's insult, both of us not bothering to keep our voices low. And when the would-be insulter tried again with, "I guess they're going to Honey," I asked breklor again, "Was that supposed to be an insult too? I guess I'm half dyke...but which half?" and then we chatted a bit more. "Hey...do you want to go to Honey?" But we had stuff to do at Club 23.
It was only later that I actually realized that the weak verbal sallies were actually meant to be insults. I theorize that the kid's thought processes went like this: "Hot chick. Wait, goth chick. She'd never want anything to do with me. Stupid dyke [protecting own ego from anticipated rejection by pre-emptively rejecting]." Had this happened to the me of a year ago, I would have actually been hurt and hurled back a venomous reply; in this case, I had already decided that these people didn't matter to me, so anything bad coming from them mattered even less, provided it wasn't actually threatening.
The nice part is that I am still aware of positive attention from people I don't care about! On the way back to parking, breklor and I were talking, and I remember saying, "You know what? I'm awesome. And you're awesome," and an unassuming skater-type kid walking past us said, "Yeah, you are awesome," which was awesome, so I said, "Thank you! You're awesome too! We're all awesome!" Plus some random guy at the Lamplighter shouted out to us as we passed, "Sweet!" So I'd say that evening was 2 win to 1 fail.
Milestone No. 2: wandering about in non-goth body-revealing clothing
It's no secret that I've been a big girl all my life. I remember being the fat kid in class for most of my grade school life, which, when paired with being the smartest kid in the class, didn't make me very popular. I remember years of humiliation from people who only wanted the best for me while they told me things that effectively amounted to "Your body is not good enough and therefore you are not good enough" without actually having effective tools to help me change it, so not only was I being humiliated, but I was helpless to change anything.
I was able to change myself in my second year of university, but this involved excessive, mindless exercise, as well as eating nearly no food, which had me levelling off at 190 pounds because my body refused to let go of its precious calories in the face of the scarcity I was putting it though. So again I couldn't change anything, and this time my SO at the time was making it obvious that he found my body lacking as compared with the other ones he was looking at. I wasn't happy.
Since then, I've gone through various points in the continuum from helplessness to intelligent, motivated action when it comes to modifying my body's weight. One thing that helped me was learning about the various precise measurements I'd need to make regarding my body so I knew exactly what was going on with it. Another was learning the value of training for strength, fitness and capability. Another was beginning to go to alt clubs and cultivating my fashion sense, which has never been mainstream, which taught me how to make myself look acceptable to my own standards at whatever size I happened to be. Another was simply finding people who had their own realistic standards for what makes physical beauty -- which happened to encompass me. And another -- and perhaps the most important -- was finding an SO who loved me exactly as I was, and supported me wholeheartedly in my attempts to improve myself in any way I chose.
Even including all of the previous paragraph, I've still had it in the back of my head that I can never win at the mainstream game, so I shouldn't even try -- which extended to wearing the mainstream clothing. Which made yesterday all the stranger.
I was looking through my dresser for clothing that would be appropriate for the bellydance class I would be joining, and eventually came up with a pair of Lululemon yoga pants I've found particularly useful, as well as a clingy lacy tank top. The clothing made every line of my body visible, except for my calves and lower legs (flared pants, yanno?). And then, without a second thought, I headed out for dance.
Let me repeat that for you: a lifelong "fat chick" put on skintight workout clothing and headed out in broad daylight without a twinge of anxiety.
I'm hoping that these two events are the evidence of a more general improvement in outlook and confidence in me. I'm feeling less shaky these days than I remember, and it's quite novel and exhilarating. I hadn't really expected to feel like this so soon after the Irish debacle...hell, I don't think I ever expected to feel like this in my life, let alone while I was young enough to have full energy to take advantage of it.
How things have changed indeed.