Post 2: In Which Anne Learns She Has Legs (and hopefully learns to hate the way she looks less)

Aaarrrgh.  Today, I hated my closet, I hated my clothes and I hated everything!  I was putting on one of my new dresses and noticed something odd... the freaking zipper on the dress was sewn on the OUTSIDE.  That. Is. Not. Right.  Is this some new fashion thing that has completely eluded me?  Why the hell would you put the zipper on the outside?  Isn't it supposed to be inside, to, you know, hide the ugly part of the zipper???

I am going to take it with me tomorrow to let my sewing genies look at it and give their opinion.  Maybe I'm just old and missed this fad because I am so NOT a fashion person.  :/

After this fiasco I wore something I've had for a while, but wasn't happy with the way it fit today.  *sigh*  I have shoulders like a linebacker, and the jacket wasn't particularly comfortable.  What the hell - here it is.  I had a belt with it at first to break the line (a brown belt to match the shoes), but the waist on this (as on many dresses) rides too high on my evidently-overly-long torso, and the seam wouldn't stay hidden by the belt, which annoyed my obsessive-compulsive side.  I was uncomfortable all bloody day. 

See how unbearably happy I look?  *pfft*

Despite me feeling uncomfortable from a clothing perspective all day long, it was a productive day.  :)

I mentioned something in my last post about having an appreciative viewer.  This is a roundabout way to get to this, but here goes.  It's a mom story.

My mother was a woman born in 1940, which gives you an understanding of the time in which she grew up.  I will keep this relatively short by saying that she had challenges in her life, but was given a good example by a very strong, independent mother.  She was a beautiful woman throughout her life - devastatingly beautiful as a teenager and glamorous as an adult.  She was often compared to Elizabeth Taylor.  She dropped out of high school after getting pregnant very young, and never went back.  She went to work as a receptionist/secretary and ended up doing some print modeling.  I've left out a lot of details, but the relevant part is coming up.

My mother judged her worth by the beauty others saw in her.  While she always told me that I could be whatever I wanted to be... that whatever I dreamed for myself I could make happen, she didn't ever believe that as it applied to her.   My sister and I were taught the classic lessons of a southern lady from my mother's time - "put your face on" every day (makeup, for the uninitiated), dress like a lady, be polite, always look your best, flirt like a champion and find a RICH husband to take care of you for the rest of your life.  I learned all the things necessary to make that happen.   But while she told me that I could do or be whatever I dreamed, my father's example showed me how hard work could actually make that happen.  That's not a knock against my mom - there were just two parents involved in my upbringing and they each had different influence.  :)

I'll never forget watching my mother preen from the attention of men, and seeing her wilt a little if they didn't react the way she wanted/expected.  She was beautiful, and when people noticed it or complimented her on it, she responded.  Her looks were extremely important to her until the day until Alzheimer's disease made it impossible for her to remember their importance.

So, as I hit my teenage years, I began to judge my worth in the same fashion.  If a boy found me attractive, I must be worthy of love.  Sure, I was smart, but it was beautiful that counted.  So, when I was faced with a man that was attracted to me, I could respond positively and feel good about myself... but only because THEY thought I was beautiful/sexy/whatever, not because I believed it personally.  Well, that was never something that was going to last... and when left alone to look in the mirror, the judgement began all over again and the flaws stood out like a neon sign.  Totally jacked up, right?  Where was that whole "being a good person" in the line of importance, huh??

So, that is one life lesson that I have to overcome in this journey.  Physical beauty, as I see it or as others see it, is not the "thing" that makes me worthy.  That's one of those things I know on a mental level... but it is something I've had to work hard to try and unlearn... and I'm still working on it.

Now, can my darned closet cooperate with me tomorrow... PLEASE????  :)

In Which Anne Learns She Has Legs (and hopefully learns to hate the way she looks less)

So, let me start out with a few qualifiers.  This is not a pity party, nor is it an attempt to gain flattery or attention.  I don't hate myself.  I don't hate my life.  I am an exceedingly fortunate person who tries to never take that for granted.  Life ain't perfect, but it is a LONG way from sucking.  I am extremely healthy, I have a wonderful boyfriend that I adore (and thankfully, he loves me back), I have a son that I love that still calls me on occasion (he's 25), I have a great group of friends that make me laugh and keep me dancing, and I have a job that pays me well.  I do things that fulfill me professionally and artistically. 

I saw a video this morning that really hit home...  and I asked myself a very similar question to the woman in the video:  when is it enough?  When can I just be ok?  After a lifetime of trying to live up to unrealistic expectations, whether self-inflicted or externally driven, when can I just be happy with how I am every day?  When am I "good enough", damn it?

This is a process in which I am forcing myself to find a level of acceptance within. Why is this public then, you might ask?  Well, if others that read this are going through the same issues, they might have some helpful suggestions to make this a less miserable journey... and frankly, this is a way for my closest friends to understand the journey and keep me honest when I tend to exaggerate the negatives.  That doesn't mean that I expect mindless negation or ignorance of flaws... just to make sure that I don't go too far to the negative as I hope others don't try to overcompensate with false positives.

I, like thousands of other women (and men, though rarely voiced), struggle with resolving the image in my head of what I think is "perfect" to the reality of how I look.  They never match up and when I look in the mirror, whether I'm in a slimmer or heavier phase, I see a "300 pound blob" that doesn't look good in or out of any clothing.  (I've never weighed 300 lbs, so I don't really know what that looks like on me, but it's the way I feel, rational or not).  My heaviest weight ever was 218 lbs, about 13 years ago.

This whole thing is about me trying to come to terms with my own self-image.  I've learned that what I see when I look in the mirror isn't what others necessarily see, and I'd like to have a better image of myself to balance things out.  Now that I'm older, I'm also dealing with that whole aging process, and the imbalance of how old I FEEL versus how old I AM... and then there's the whole problem of how old I feel that I LOOK.  What a stupid mess!  The biggest driving thought for me:  I'm going to be 50 next April, and I want to be happy in my own skin in the second half of my life, because I've never been comfortable to this point.

Onward and upward.  I just started a new job, and had to spruce up my wardrobe.  Where I am now working, the dress code is business professional instead of business casual.  The men wear ties every day, and the women dress VERY nice.  I don't think I'm alone in this sentiment:  I HATE to shop for clothes.  I wish to avoid the whole process completely, and just hang out in slob clothes with no shape because they're comfortable.  But, I don't have that choice.  So, I went and bought a few pieces to upscale my options, and I bought several dresses.  I also don't like the way I look in dresses.  I always feel like they make me look even fatter, and that they never fit right.  But, when trying on the dresses, the sales lady forced me to look at my image a bit more realistically, and actually said something to me that made me wake up a little.

She said, "I don't see what you see.  That dress looks wonderful on you and is extremely flattering." 

"Ok, fine", I said internally, in quite a huff and not being very nice about it at all in my head.  To the sales lady (out loud) I replied simply and politely, "Thank you."  Then I went in to try on the next dress. 

Dubious, but determined to try, I purchased 5 dresses that day, and determined to wear more of the skirts and suits I had already languishing in my closet.  Below are my first two attempts at remembering that I had legs.  Now, I will say, that there was a time that I actually enjoyed having legs, and showing them off to an appreciative audience.  But let me make this perfectly clear - that was only because I knew I had an appreciative viewer, not because I believed it of myself.  That's a very important point that I'll explain in my next post.  I end the post with the photos, until the next time... but oh, I'll also say that I totally SUCK at this selfie thing, so just get over my expression or the crappy pictures.  The camera, to me, is now my enemy.   Hopefully I can get past that as well.  From now on, only one pic per post.  I had catch-up to do this time.

Look 1 - a Calvin Klein dress that I received some positive comments on from my most amazing dance darlings (thank you... I love you guys!!).

Look 2 - a Calvin Klein skirt I've had for a while (what can I say, both Calvin and Anne Klein clothes seem to fit me well and not make me cry) and a new blouse.

We'll see how this thing goes... but this is the start.