Do something about my self-image

Yesterday I got dressed up to go to a government office. I had to make a good impression. I found a skirt I had bought about three years ago and never worn and one of the little Wal-Mart knit blouses I bought last summer, and paired them with my sandals.

All three of the articles were bought during phases when I looked for clothes to wear to solve my image problems. The sandals looked a little bent, the clothing I thought was rather out of style, I was informed by dd the colours did not go, and they made me look rather frumpy.

Frumpy is fine. Conventional is what I wanted, not striking, stylish and sexy. Once I got into the office sitting in chilly air conditioned comfort I scanned all the other women coming in with an eye to comparisions. Rather to my surprise I did not look any shabbier than they did. The majority of them looked lumpier and and only one in thirty was dressed more neatly and more formal. I did notice that capri pants, whatever they call those this century, were in since at lest 2/3 of the women were wearing them, and twin sets although they were a matching shirt and shell not knits.

So now I have a little bit of an idea what other people are wearing for office casual in this city. It certainly isn’t attractive or interesting, but it doesn’t look difficult either.

Today I wandered through a discount department store and looked at the clothing. Nothing was worth trying on but I did look. I told myself not to worry about bargains but it was cheap running between $8 to $35 but the discounts although loudly labeled were unimpressive, such as $10.97 printed t-shirts reduced to $10.00. For that they had a yellow placard the size of a window.

I’m thinking I need to put myself on a $100 per month budget. I’m to spend $100 on personal clothing every month, whether I see anything I like or not. And I have to go out and look for it too.

I’m not committed to do that yet. I have to look at the money situation more for a few days. Tell you what. If I do get a job in the next few weeks I definitely will make this a commitment, since I will need a work wardrobe.

This one is driving me lunatic. First of all it keeps reminding me. But to do something about my self image I need to invest in clothes.

To invest in clothes I need to have cash, which I don’t have. In fact I look baggier than ever because I am still losing weight. I ended up having to buy two pairs of trousers because I had nothing that fit me and now both those pairs -cheapie Wal-Mart jeans – are also starting to be too loose on me.

But you know what? I am glad to be getting the reminders because I really want to do something about this. The reminders keep it in my consciousness. That way when the opportunity comes I will do something.

I can’t remember the last time I played dress up. I know I dressed for a funeral last September, and I know I dressed for a funeral the April before that… and oh yes, there was a third funeral somewhere since the September one. (My dh comes from a village where it is required to stop at the funeral for anyone who is related to anyone you know, however remotely.)

But apart from dressing up for funerals? Hmmm… No, I really don’t remember the last time I played dress up.

Since the kids were born I have made a few generally unsatisfactory stabs at revamping my wardrobe. (The youngest is fourteen and three-quarters.) I remember though, that I did fairly well at the conventional office look while job hunting some nine years ago. I believe I hit Suzy Shier and was able to get some clothes there in their young professionals line. That was okay at thirty five but is definitely not the right place to shop at the moment.

The first thing I did today was the full female groom. Well, comparatively speaking. It’s not like I put on make up or nail polish. But I didn’t just wash my hair, I put two kinds of product in it, conditioner and anti-frizz!!!

Then I went digging through the stuff I have in my drawers, finding almost entirely scruffy jeans. I found a skirt. It had never been worn. It had been bought… oh, more than four years ago anyway. Might be six but probably not eight. The skirt has ruffles and is mid-calf length. It’s violet. I found a purple shirt I bought at Wal-Mart last fall which has little puffy sleeves and is kind of the girlhood school blouse look except it’s purple and a knit. The two of them… well they didn’t really clash.

But since my glasses have a violet tint to them it was definitely purple overkill. So then I found a grey wool cardigan that is really my son’s but his shoulders have grown out of it, and I put that on top, which cut down all that purple and violet.

I think I have a reasonably conventional look for spring here.

I don’t feel woefully awkward wearing it yet, but then I haven’t left my room.

Man, am I ever backward when it comes to dressing female!

Okay, so I’ve pretty much dealt with my body issues. They were never big to begin with. I’m happy with my weight. I am happy with my hair. That makes it rather easy to come to terms with things. I’m even happy with my age as I would rather have crow’s feet and feel competent, than have the fresh-face of a teenager and be flailing around trying for self-understanding. I rather admire older faces.

How do I tackle my gender issues? I have been working on this for awhile. The number one problem is that I’ve never had a role model who could be called remotely feminine. I had a mother but she had major issues of her own. It was social suicide to take any cues from her.

But I’m not exactly under my mother’s influence any more. I need to figure out a style that won’t make me look like a freak to the rest of the world but will also be practical and make me comfortable. And that’s not easy. Some weeks ago I suggested I needed to start by shopping for clothes, but let’s face it. I will buy clothes for the kids and my spouse, and even when given evidence of social needs will buy brand names for them. But I won’t buy clothes for me.

It’s ridiculous how picky I am. There’s something here I’m not grasping. I mean, why do I have such a violent antipathy for conventional feminine clothes?

As long as I have any excuse for being careful with money I basically refuse to buy clothes for myself unless they are cheap utilitarian jeans. And even then I wait until the pair I am wearing has been worn often enough that the cuffs are frayed, the whole garment has grown limp and faded and even I realise I am starting to look pathologically scruffy.

Pathologically scruffy is what I grew up with. We were dressed so badly as kids that they once called child welfare on us thinking we were too poor to afford clothes. But this doesn’t explain why I hate the idea of dressing as a fashionable female. I hate it almost as much as Joan of Arc hated it.

An inventory:

Hair: I rather like it, basically aesthetically pleasing but annoying to have to keep brushing it and putting it up.

Face: Umm… at least I no longer go “Who the Hell is that??!!” every time I see myself in the mirror. And it is a darn sight better than it was when I would catch sight of myself in the mirror, see my mother and promptly go into a PTSD flashback. In fact she (the face in the mirror) is okay, a rather comfortable, motherly looking sort.

Arms: I like them but sort of wish they were better muscled. Of course I don’t have the motivation to do my weight regime every day so I am obviously not strongly concerned here.

Breasts: Hate ‘em. They are big blubbery things put there solely for the sustenance of my kids and so that strange men will harrass me. I’ve considered surgical removal, not reduction but complete removal. I mean, now that I’m not nursing, what would I want them for? They are uncomfortable, make me overheat and make me look sloppy in all my clothes unless I wear corsets, and corsets just don’t go over at the office.

Belly: Is a disaster area after three pregnancies and an enlarged uterus. However they are noble scars, if you see what I mean and the slight podge of belly fat I think of as my insurance policy against lean times. I’m okay with that. Hidden under the wobbles and distorted by the I-am-in-early-pregnancy look is actually a slight hint of the beginning of a washboard. 25 sit-ups a day is actually enough to make a difference in that respect, amazingly enough.

Butt: I can’t see it, so why would I worry what it looks like?

Legs: Like ‘em. I totally shouldn’t because they are fuzzy and for female to have fuzz is supposed to be gross but I like them a lot. They have nice firm muscles and seem decently utilitarian legs.

Feet: Big boat-like enormous feet. I can only sometimes find women’s shoes. I love ‘em. Big feet are good feet for walking and running.

Other: Some wear and tear saddens me. My joints are a now in a rearguard action. I suspect by the time I am ancient I will need to have knee and hip replacements and if such a thing were possible, a neck replacement too. But that’s the rules of this game that the parts will wear out so I am doing the gallant and responsible thing and feel okay about it. My uterus is a total disaster and should probably come out, if only I could convince my doctor of it. Especially with fatal endometrial cancer in the family history. Hamds: love them. I have little stubby brown hands, like a child’s hands, which is funny because everybody else in the world says they are pale white hands with long fingers. Teeth, Eyes, Nose etc: used to them, happy with them.

Overall: B+ I very much enjoy my body and everything I can do and the fact that it is my private toy and primary resource. It’s nice having a body and mobile shoulders and useful fingernails and orgasms and good digestion and excellent hearing and pretty earlobes and basically I just feel pretty good and appreciative about my body.

Now if only I could ever figure out what to do about clothes…

I looked at a jacket in a department store. It was brown and if they had had it in my size I might have tried it on.

Does that count?

No? Um, then I spent 12$ on a bra that hopefully fits. That’s gotta count. I spent actual money on clothing!

Curse the whole thing. Mutter. Mutter.

It would help if I ever even saw clothing that I thought was attractive.

I suppose 12$ doesn’t count as major money.

I got a reminder to review this goal. I think I have settled the hair portion of the problem. What is left is… the scruffy clothing and inappropriate sneakers etc.

I think I need to take a shopping trip and buy a couple of hundred dollars worth of new clothes. Unfortunately I have no idea where to go to get clothes I like the look of. I know I am too old and big-breasted for Suzy Shier, and their clothing mostly looks dreadful anyway. I am not too old for Wal-Mart, Reitmans, Old Navy, Sears, Le Chateau and another half dozen chains, but their clothing looks too Barbie for my taste unless I shop in the men’s department where it either looks scruffy or since I am big-chested fails to fit me any more closely than a gunny sack and looks even scruffier. I also know that the clothing at Stitches and some of my other possiblities are too cheap and casual for me to wear.

So I need to figure out a style before I can go shopping… Yes, if I have a shopping list and an idea what to get I will be better off than if I just look for “clothes”.

The problem is that my taste in clothing runs to extremely eccentric, and if I can’t wear what I think looks good it is hard for me to muster the enthusiasm for what other people say looks good but is both uncomfortable and I think looks truly sad and pathetic on me.

That’s the missing ingredient to make my hair stop going fuzzy. Hairspray!

But if I use hairspray there will be a nasty build up and I will have to shampoo my hair every day which will cause it go go brittle… Some of my ex-coworkers had perfect hair. Except when you actually looked at them, they had what looked like extremely dry straw. Close up their hair looked like they needed to shave it off for cancer research and start over.

Hmmm… I have fairly nice hair, not too dry and reasonably sleek and I like my hair.

Some internet research told me that hairspray was the way to go, but would result in really needing haircuts, which is the last thing you want if you like long hair.

So I’m going to go with excusing myself to go powder my nose and sleeking down the fuzzies with a damp hand periodically. They are not too extreme fuzzies and once I am not wearing a hat probably three quick grooming stops a day in front of a mirror will do it.

A few days ago I did my hair as usual in two braids, but then I got one of those toothy spring clip hair thingummies and folded my braids up with the elastics and the tassels hidden in the neat folds and put the clip on it.

It stayed up and it stayed in place. It also got very, very fuzzy. However it was an improvement. Hairstyles starting with one braid or a pony tail end up with little scraggles falling to both sides of my head. This at least stays up.

Today I did my hair again the same way but this time I put a couple of dollops of hair cream in it. It’s still not quite respectable for the fuzzies but it’s not as bad.

I know how other people avoid the fuzzies. They don’t wear a hat. They go bareheaded or they take their car and don’t have to stand in 25* below zero waiting for a bus. Or most likely both.

So if I have a job interview I know how I will fix my hair and that I will take a taxi and allow my poor little ears to freeze off.

Actually I think the style is quite becoming. It is old fashioned and formal and suits me too.

I think I’ll have to give up on this goal before I get somewhere with it. I have no idea how to make any progress on it, you see, so I begin simply by formulating the goal. If it’s down perhaps I can find some threads to tease out.

Dispassionately there is nothing wrong with my appearance. I look a bit scruffy and under-groomed but that is because I am scruffy and undergroomed and a little bit of shopping and a touch of hair cream to hold down the fuzzies would put things right.

This is something that I am going to have to do if I want to find work and fit into the work world. Every book on women suggest that doing a beauty routine -pamper yourself with an at home spa! -makes women feel better and I just find it boring and normally can’t see any difference whatsoever, since I’m not trained to look at tiny differences in skin dryness and so on.

I guess I want to learn to do personal grooming smoothly, easily and without resentment. I have the attitude of a seven year old tomboy when it comes to grooming. “Jeez! I ran a brush through my hair and I’m wearing trousers not pajama pants. What more do you want?? Shoes?? Huh! Some people are never satisfied!”