Weekend Plans: Extreme Makeover Edition
This is when I’m glad that I have some barriers between my blog life and my real life. Because I can kvetch to all of you without certain other people knowing.
Here’s the thing: Last week, I mentioned to my friend A that I might go to a couple of parties loosely tied into a certain festival here. The operative word being *might.*
Because of the weight that I’ve gained over the past year, I don’t fit into any of my cute party-type clothes. So A kindly offered to make something for me. I thought, “Great. We’ll make a simple A-line skirt so that I’ll have something to wear. And it’ll cost a little less than buying something.”
So now here’s the part where I start to sound totally ungrateful. One simple skirt turned into two not-so-simple skirts. And getting a cute outfit for a party has turned into a total, all-encompassing, all-consuming, and rather expensive judgment of who I am.
As most of you know---or could easily figure out from reading this blog---I’m not a party girl. At all. And I’ve (mostly) made my peace with it. I’ve (mostly) gotten over the idea that being 20-something means that I have to spend my Saturday nights crammed into noisy, smoky bars in a desperate attempt to find a man or that I have to dress or act in a certain way. But I do like music and drinking and dancing and occasionally I do try to step outside of my comfort zone.
I see a difference, though, between stepping outside of my comfort zone and trying to become something I’m not.
But A has this “vision” of who I should be, and she thinks that with the right clothes, I’ll magically become that person. She thinks that if I wear a hot pink skirt and a tight, cleavage-baring top, I’ll morph into an outgoing, confident hipster. Instead I’m starting to become resentful and uncomfortable. I’m starting to feel worse about myself.
I’ve tried sticking up for myself, but A then tells me that I’m making her “feel bad,” as if my not wanting to conform to her “vision” is an insult. I’ve tried telling her that I think the skirts are beautiful but that they just aren’t “me.” Sort of like how you can admire a dress in a fashion magazine but know that you would never wear it even if you did look like a supermodel. She gets even more insulted.
What little desire I did have to go to these parties is quickly dissipating as I feel bullied into going and into dressing how someone else thinks I should.
So I have a conundrum this weekend: The material is bought and A has already put a lot of time and effort into these skirts. So I’d feel bad about backing out entirely. But I also don’t want to spend my entire weekend being made over---getting fitted for the skirts, shopping for tops and shoes, being told how to wear my hair and do my makeup. I don’t want to spend my weekend being made to feel bad about who I am.
I think we all know what I’ll wind up doing: I’ll spend the weekend being made over and then tuck the skirts deep into my closet. The skirts are very cute. I’m just not in a place where I’m comfortable wearing them. Maybe someday I will be. But it’s going to be when I’m ready, not when someone bullies me into it.
I really wish I had a spine.
Anyway, so I’ll be spending the rest of today dreading the weekend. And repeatedly (obsessively) checking to see if my latest book review gets any comments (because even in a hot pink skirt, I’m still needy and insecure). And when I’m not having my makeover, I’ll be proofing a journal, taking Rowen to the park, reading in various locations, and watching my imaginary boyfriend’s new movie. I may also get furloughed to have lunch with some of the blogger gals.