not worry about what others think of me

specifically, my supervisor and manager. my supervisor likes to condescend and generally speak to me as though i were autistic. my manager is simply underhanded. it’s not so much that i care about their opinions, but rather, how said opinions affect me.

other people at work make me doubt and question myself, but that’s simply because i made the mistake of being nice to them on a social level. free advice: never, ever try to be friends with co-workers. have drinks with them, schmooze them, but don’t ever be genuine with them. even if it means missing out on your best friend or soul mate; if it were meant to be, you’d meet them elsewhere.

Today is a test of self-image: I had to wear a skirt, since I was meeting clients, and all of my nice pants were in the wash. I didn’t shave my legs today (just stubbly enough that a client wouldn’t notice, but people sitting next to me in a social situation will). I am also wearing the Least. Flattering. Outfit. Ever. I am fighting the urges to fret and feel self-concious. Who cares! Why should I be obligated to have baby-ass smooth legs at all times? Why should I apply makeup every single morning? So what if this blouse/skirt combo gives me the appearance of a middle-aged Ukranian lady? (Hell, one day I’ll be a middle-aged, part-Ukranian lady myself.) I’m still me on the inside, right?
On one hand, I fear that worrying about things like this makes me a shallow person. But on the other hand, I don’t give a crap about the tiny details of others’ appearances. In fact, it gives me relief when I notice that someone near me has stubble or bad hair or cat fur on their sweater; it makes me feel more human. Hell! Why are we all competing for such perfection, anyhow? We work in an office, we’re not fashion models. Sure, I like looking good, but I also want to like what I wear, and today, I would have felt really confident in jeans and a sweatshirt….

It’s a bad obsession, I know. Always certain that other people are laughing at me in their minds, that I’m a huge failure (see self-esteem issue). Ten years ago, I was better with this; I cared what others thought, but I used punk-rock as a tool to deflect opinion. I liked being punky, and I knew that would be scorned, but I didn’t care. I liked myself a lot more back then, and I knew that no-one else knew about the things I disliked in myself. It was easier to hide them and to blow off the insults. I had a better sense of what mattered. But I can’t just pick up a look to hide behind now. While it may have really been who I was then, it doesn’t accurately reflect me now, and would be completely invalid. I’m no more or less real or true now, but it’s not as easy to blow off criticism anymore because I know that it’s not primarily directed at my appearance anymore. Le sigh. I’m working on my emotional strength, but it’s hard sometimes….

I really need to improve on this. Right now I’m in a room with my co-workers, paranoid that they’re secretly plotting my demise. (Or at least laughing at me when I leave the room.) In case you hadn’t noticed, most items on my list are closely related. Well, so far; I’m only up to six for now…