Mellow Jell-O!!
When I was 10, which was 1990, Jell-O must have been the rage... jelly bracelets, jelly shoes, hell, and jelly anything. Big hair, bright blush, suits for women, if you had those, you were hip.
I was not hip.
It was at this age that I went into a shop with my mum and discovered the dress of all dresses. (I should mention that my dad thought I was a boy and only dressed me pants, shorts and BOYS dress shoes with lace that were tied up neatly. The only feminine article I wore, was a pair mary-jane shoes from Bata that my dad bought for me every year, exactly 2 weeks before school started.) This dress was something you would find in Cinderella's wardrobe, unless it was 1790, you'd most likely want to leave it there.
I, however, wanted it more than anything.
Trying it on it was a perfect fit. I can't tell you how beautiful I felt in this dress that was mostly a lil blouse and a long flowy skirt that went down just past my ankle. I rushed over to my mum, begging her to buy it for me.
Sensing my mother's agony, the sales lady, a fashionable Danish woman, looked at me with rolled eyes. She knew I was a strange dresser but this beat all. This could cause problems.
"If you wear this," she told me, "People will make fun of you."
"I don't care," I replied.
"I need you to understand that if you wear it, you're going to get comments, and laughs and teased. And I don't want you running home crying if that happens. People are going to see this dress on you a lot differently than you see it on you. Do you understand?"
I did. However, my mom nodded. I knew the nod by now; it meant it was too expensive. She promised to stitch me one jus like it, and I could choose the fabric. I was excited. I was having a rush of patriotism back then. I choose a bright orange and bright green fabric. I was repreZentIN ma country… my flag, in my flashy new outfit. I wore it for the first time and felt on top of the world. I knew my dad wouldn't be very pleased with this apparel, so I danced quietly in front of the mirror for hours.
Wearing it out, I did get teased - a lot. Not just from children but from teachers, adults and anyone who knew a good Disney joke, which surprisingly there are a lot of.
When I tell you that none of those comments bothered me one bit, I am telling you the truth. Even as an awkward, strange ten year old, being made fun of for being different had no effect. In fact, most of the time I never even noticed the teasing because I felt beautiful with that dress on and nothing else mattered.
Why should it matter, I used to think, what others thought? Who are they to say I can't feel beautiful or be happy or change my name to Mougli? (I used to think Mougli from JUNGLE BOOK was a girl) Who says they are it and get to define who I am. It wasn't that I thought I was better or more beautiful than they were, on the contrary , it's just that I was OK with liking what I liked. I knew I was here to live my life and not the imagined one of others. Wearing that strange dress gave me joy more than conforming ever did. I’m not sure if rebelling against societal norms was part of my intention, when I pranced around proudly in that outfit, but it sure makes more sense now.
Looking back at a photograph I see how much I stood out amongst my peers and really, how sad I looked in that gaudy orange and green dress. But it didn't matter; all that mattered was that I liked it.
I share this because people are so afraid of what other people will think all the time. What people will think of their careers, their partners, their home, their dresses that there is very little enjoyment to any of these things. Truth is, I don’t think I ever grew up to be an individual, but another piece that will fit well into the mass societal puzzle. Worry of others overtakes us and robes us of the pleasure that we are so entitled to. Even if it's in a pitiful little dress.
When I was 10, which was 1990, Jell-O must have been the rage... jelly bracelets, jelly shoes, hell, and jelly anything. Big hair, bright blush, suits for women, if you had those, you were hip.
I was not hip.
It was at this age that I went into a shop with my mum and discovered the dress of all dresses. (I should mention that my dad thought I was a boy and only dressed me pants, shorts and BOYS dress shoes with lace that were tied up neatly. The only feminine article I wore, was a pair mary-jane shoes from Bata that my dad bought for me every year, exactly 2 weeks before school started.) This dress was something you would find in Cinderella's wardrobe, unless it was 1790, you'd most likely want to leave it there.
I, however, wanted it more than anything.
Trying it on it was a perfect fit. I can't tell you how beautiful I felt in this dress that was mostly a lil blouse and a long flowy skirt that went down just past my ankle. I rushed over to my mum, begging her to buy it for me.
Sensing my mother's agony, the sales lady, a fashionable Danish woman, looked at me with rolled eyes. She knew I was a strange dresser but this beat all. This could cause problems.
"If you wear this," she told me, "People will make fun of you."
"I don't care," I replied.
"I need you to understand that if you wear it, you're going to get comments, and laughs and teased. And I don't want you running home crying if that happens. People are going to see this dress on you a lot differently than you see it on you. Do you understand?"
I did. However, my mom nodded. I knew the nod by now; it meant it was too expensive. She promised to stitch me one jus like it, and I could choose the fabric. I was excited. I was having a rush of patriotism back then. I choose a bright orange and bright green fabric. I was repreZentIN ma country… my flag, in my flashy new outfit. I wore it for the first time and felt on top of the world. I knew my dad wouldn't be very pleased with this apparel, so I danced quietly in front of the mirror for hours.
Wearing it out, I did get teased - a lot. Not just from children but from teachers, adults and anyone who knew a good Disney joke, which surprisingly there are a lot of.
When I tell you that none of those comments bothered me one bit, I am telling you the truth. Even as an awkward, strange ten year old, being made fun of for being different had no effect. In fact, most of the time I never even noticed the teasing because I felt beautiful with that dress on and nothing else mattered.
Why should it matter, I used to think, what others thought? Who are they to say I can't feel beautiful or be happy or change my name to Mougli? (I used to think Mougli from JUNGLE BOOK was a girl) Who says they are it and get to define who I am. It wasn't that I thought I was better or more beautiful than they were, on the contrary , it's just that I was OK with liking what I liked. I knew I was here to live my life and not the imagined one of others. Wearing that strange dress gave me joy more than conforming ever did. I’m not sure if rebelling against societal norms was part of my intention, when I pranced around proudly in that outfit, but it sure makes more sense now.
Looking back at a photograph I see how much I stood out amongst my peers and really, how sad I looked in that gaudy orange and green dress. But it didn't matter; all that mattered was that I liked it.
I share this because people are so afraid of what other people will think all the time. What people will think of their careers, their partners, their home, their dresses that there is very little enjoyment to any of these things. Truth is, I don’t think I ever grew up to be an individual, but another piece that will fit well into the mass societal puzzle. Worry of others overtakes us and robes us of the pleasure that we are so entitled to. Even if it's in a pitiful little dress.
posted by brownmystique at 6:02 AM
5 comments
