Tuesday, June 26, 2012

That kind of girl.

So I was reading this piece over at XOjane (yeah I know, I only read two people there it cuts down on the rages) by Marianne and yes.

This bit speaks to me in particular:

 Because no kind of girl is superior to another kind of girl if they are all good people. Some folks ARE appearance-obsessed shopaholics.
In my early exposures to feminism as a teenager I experienced a lot of the don't be a stereotypical girl type bias. Back then naturally I had no defense and no idea I could defend myself and my identity. My identity was still doughy, still forming and that shit fucked me up but good.

As I got out of my teens I met with yet more of that when I started frolicking with lesbians. Unfortunately for me, the lesbians I knew at the time were very rooted in anti-femmeness.

That was clearly not for me.

Now that I'm older I come across a lot of rhetoric and intertubes bullying that implies that because I am fat I shouldn't bother being fancy.

A lot of people who embrace and believe the idea that if you are a fat person you have "let yourself go" or that if you dress sexy or super sharp or with an absolute aesthetic flavor, that you are somehow trying to "make up" for being fat.

I have had people ask me if I wore crazy make up (which yes sometimes I do) or wear all black, in the hopes that people wouldn't see that I am fat.

The immediate answer to that is are you dumb?

Seriously.

What on earth ever could make anyone who looks at me and my body, think that some bright ass eyeshadow or seven pounds of eyeliner (which I'm wearing today) would not notice that I am a little fat lady?

Are you for real?

Here's the thing.

As I have said for years, how I dress, do my hair, do my make up is for my own pleasure.

For her pleasure.

In the same way that I would not retire my skinny jeans to make some random skinny girls on the street comfortably I will not change my appearance to make anyone else happy.

This includes feminists who have and will shame me for wearing "feminine" things. For those who told me that me wearing high heels was like a slap in the face (quoted from my actual life) for the ones who told me that looking like a whore (red lipstick, tight/short clothes etc) was a "call" to get assaulted and when I was harassed and touched inappropriately in a club they said I shouldn't have been wearing that.

Yes they did.

This includes the lesbians who told me I couldn't be both a lesbian AND get my nails done.

I wish any of this was hyperbole or say fifty years ago but it wasn't.

It also includes anyone who decides I can't wear a babydoll, tight pants, short skirts, thigh highs or whatever because I'm fat.

In all practicality I have a philosophy about this kind of thing.

If you aren't paying my bills or putting clothes on my ass keep your fucking mouth shut.

And if you do decide to take me to task about my tight ass pants and mile of cleavage, prepare to get read to filth because I will not have that.

I am not the one.

While I love talking about presentation and self identification and flying freak flags, I will not dabble in participate in or tolerate telling anyone how they should or shouldn't live in their own skin.

There is a level of presumption and disrespect inherent in the idea that anyone can tell another person how to live in their own skin it astonishes me.

It is one thing to share your own experiences or if someone says I need help with this to give your opinion about it. But the idea that it's okay to ever just give it like that, ugh.

I can't.

No it's not that I can't.

I won't.

I do not give a hot fuck.

Not. One. Fuck.

As evidenced by how I dress frequently.

The day I decided to be whatever the fuck kind of girl I want to at any given moment, so much of my internal stress and upset melted away.

I walked with my back straighter.

My self esteem went up.

I started figuring out how sometimes I really just need to be as absurd as I feel like I need to be because it makes me feel good.

I'll give you an example. When I was about 23 or so I was having a super shit month. Nothing went right, I felt bad, I was ill, I was broke, none of my cute clothes fit. I felt all over awful. I happened to be grocery shopping at the dollar store and saw one of those headbands with the deedly antennae on it. I bought it on a whim, jammed it in my backpack and forgot about it.

At some point on the bus I found them in my bag, put them on and went on about my day running around downtown.

Most adults frowned at me. Someone lectured me about "attention" seeking.

And then I met a very cute little girl wearing major thick glasses, I told her I liked her glasses and she told me she liked my antennae. She said I looked like a shiny ant, I said she looked like a little flower face. I told her that her glasses were cool and the smile that lit up her face fueled me for a week.

One of the things making me miserable during that time was my closet full of normal grown up clothes. Sensible khaki pants, things that are fine for other people but they are not my jam.

For me a big part of me feeling good in my skin is the ability to show how I feel on my outsides whether it's make up, cocktail dresses worn to work, stompy boots or gaudy ass jewelry.

For me, I need to be that kind of girl because it makes me feel good and the only person that will shore up my feel goods is me.

For those of you my homies who aren't super sure about these things, I invite you to give no fucks about what anyone including me says.

Do what makes you feel good and strong and wonderful.

Wear what you feel like you need to wear.

I realize we can't dress however we please everywhere, I have the privilege of having a job where I can be as ridiculous as I want to and I know not everyone does.

Do what you need to in your actual life to help yourself feel good.

Fuck what people say.

If someone gives you one of those stank face up and down looks, you square up those shoulders look them in the eye and make them eat it.

Make them behold all those fucks you don't give.

If they speak you do what you need to in order to make sure you feel good about how you walk away. If that means giving the finger, give the finger. Maybe that means you tell them to fuck off. Blow them a kiss, do what you have to do.

Remember my darlings.

Other peoples feelings about how you live in your skin is none of your business and has no real bearing on your actual lived life. Some people no matter how you dress or how you look are going have some bullshit to say about you.

That's okay.

It's not the end of the world.

And you, you my wonderful homie do not need to give not one fuck.

Not.

One.

Fuck.

Now. I love you my  homies and haters. Go forth, be absurd, be beautiful.

Homo out.




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4 comments:

Sumayyah said...

I love it! I tend to freak people out when I wave my freak flag around, but *shrugs* I'm ME. I'm too old to care much, except where safety is a concerned.

maggiemunkee said...

i recently bought a (very) cheap tweedly moustache with a little soft plastic bit that sits on your septum. sometimes i just wear it out. for fun. i wish i could find the deedly antennae.

phaydra said...

Great post. My friends and I created our blog that combines fashion and feminism to prove that they can be shared interests and not mutually exclusive. I think fashion is a form of self expression and can be empowering to women. Fashion lady Anna Della Russo says when people give you funny looks just smile and say hi to them and cheerfully go on your way. What I was most curious about is whether it was other feminists that said you looked like a whore or blamed you for sexual harassment?

Mad Gastronomer said...

I wear silly hats. I have one that's an actual china teacup and saucer mounted on a headband. My girlfriend won't be seen with me wearing it. It's awesome.

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