(no subject)
Oct. 22nd, 2004 10:15 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
nnyAt this moment in time I feel utterly vile. Fucking makeover fucking TV.
*deep breaths*
Clothes and I do not get on. I've been wearing essentially the same thing since college because it's safe, and it's how people know me, and it's how I know myself. I don't necessarily like it, but I know it. I'm terrified of changing it because... what if I make an effort, and it doesn't work? What if I try to change myself and no one notices? What if they laugh?
I can't shop. I don't know if it's an innate skill or something you learn, but somehow I seem to have been completely left out of the loop as far as shopping goes. Any time I walk into somewhere remotely fashionable I feel out of place, I feel as though the shop assistants are staring at me, aching to walk up to me and yell that I shouldn't be there, that I'm quite clearly in the wrong place, who do I think I'm trying to fool? I flick my eyes over the racks and depart, red-faced and muttering insults at the perceived slight, trying to hide the fact that I'm scared shitless.
I hate changing rooms. I hate mirrors- don't own one. I hate the expectations with which I go out into the world and the way I return empty handed and feeling like some kind of freak of nature. Who the hell is afraid of shops? Me.
I can go on at great length about why I dress the way I do, about why I rarely wear make up, about why I don't make an effort. I say it's because people should like me for who, not what, I am. I say that I'd rather spend the time other people spend getting ready reading a book. I say that it's more fun when I do make an effort, and people are surprised. All true in their way, I suppose. Truth is, I'm scared.
I genuinely believe that I'm unattractive. I look at myself and I can't see anything that anyone could love. I see a friend, I see a huge grin, I see maaaaahvellous hair dahling. I see a lovely personality. I see Agnes- "...but she's got a wonderful personality". But. I'm not hideous, just terribly English. Instantly forgettable.
Why am I suddenly worried now? Because I have done that most geeky of things- fallen in love over the internet. I've found someone clever, bright, creative, funny, geeky...I could go on. I won't bore you. Suffice it to say that I have genuinely never felt this way before. It's confusing and exhilirating and terrifying. We've spoken, but I can't afford to meet her. And I'm petrified that when I do, that'll be it. Because I'm me. Because I look the way I do.
How do I solve this? I'm buggered if I know. I'm at a loss. I wish I could say that I have a plan of action, that I'm going to increase my confidence, that I have the remotest idea of what I'm doing. Life isn't a TV show. It's not that easy. All I can do is hope. I'm not very good at that.
*deep breaths*
Clothes and I do not get on. I've been wearing essentially the same thing since college because it's safe, and it's how people know me, and it's how I know myself. I don't necessarily like it, but I know it. I'm terrified of changing it because... what if I make an effort, and it doesn't work? What if I try to change myself and no one notices? What if they laugh?
I can't shop. I don't know if it's an innate skill or something you learn, but somehow I seem to have been completely left out of the loop as far as shopping goes. Any time I walk into somewhere remotely fashionable I feel out of place, I feel as though the shop assistants are staring at me, aching to walk up to me and yell that I shouldn't be there, that I'm quite clearly in the wrong place, who do I think I'm trying to fool? I flick my eyes over the racks and depart, red-faced and muttering insults at the perceived slight, trying to hide the fact that I'm scared shitless.
I hate changing rooms. I hate mirrors- don't own one. I hate the expectations with which I go out into the world and the way I return empty handed and feeling like some kind of freak of nature. Who the hell is afraid of shops? Me.
I can go on at great length about why I dress the way I do, about why I rarely wear make up, about why I don't make an effort. I say it's because people should like me for who, not what, I am. I say that I'd rather spend the time other people spend getting ready reading a book. I say that it's more fun when I do make an effort, and people are surprised. All true in their way, I suppose. Truth is, I'm scared.
I genuinely believe that I'm unattractive. I look at myself and I can't see anything that anyone could love. I see a friend, I see a huge grin, I see maaaaahvellous hair dahling. I see a lovely personality. I see Agnes- "...but she's got a wonderful personality". But. I'm not hideous, just terribly English. Instantly forgettable.
Why am I suddenly worried now? Because I have done that most geeky of things- fallen in love over the internet. I've found someone clever, bright, creative, funny, geeky...I could go on. I won't bore you. Suffice it to say that I have genuinely never felt this way before. It's confusing and exhilirating and terrifying. We've spoken, but I can't afford to meet her. And I'm petrified that when I do, that'll be it. Because I'm me. Because I look the way I do.
How do I solve this? I'm buggered if I know. I'm at a loss. I wish I could say that I have a plan of action, that I'm going to increase my confidence, that I have the remotest idea of what I'm doing. Life isn't a TV show. It's not that easy. All I can do is hope. I'm not very good at that.
