Do clothes really define a person?
By freak accident I left my suitcase at home in Texas and boarded the plane with only the clothes I was wearing. Fortunately I had my makeup in my purse, and jewelry on me.
Slightly daunting knowing I would be wearing the same outfit for four days, in weather I have not been in for years, my friend has graciously offered me some of her clothes.
When I was married and the children were little I had a uniform of sorts. I was in the role of young wife and mother. My uniform reflected more of a youthful arrogance. I was a runner, thin, and proud of my body. I wore my hair long and natural, and little to no makeup.
My clothing consisted of overalls with a crop top underneath, or jean shorts bought in the men's section worn around my waist. black leather belt and a tight tank top. My shoes were Birkenstock.
At that time in my life I do not recall owning any skirts or dresses. I did not care about shoes or jewelry. My $35 wedding ring was plenty and I adored it.
At some point after my husband died and I gained weight my uniform began to change. I started wearing skirts all the time, or dresses. Light cotton clothing that felt feminine and pretty to me. I still clung on to my tank tops a I can not stand tee shirts.
Was I over compensating with my clothing to feel better about myself having been uncomfortable in my body? Did wearing more feminine clothing make me feel prettier since I did not have that natural confidence I used to have?
One night not too long ago out at a bar a girl and I switched persona's. Simply by switching what we had on our heads. I donned an elaborate black feather clip and she had her knitted cap on.
Almost immediately she began to adapt a feminine attitude, flipping her hair, and gesturing with her hands. I, on the other hand sat differently, knees apart and leaned on one. Someone took a picture of us and I am throwing some sort of pseudo gang sign and she is posing like a starlet.
Here I am in New Jersey, not in my clothes, wearing for the first time in over ten years jean shorts around my waist and a loose tank top. It feels foreign and familiar all at once.
Do I feel any less feminine? Maybe. But I also feel a sense of confidence I have not felt in a long time as well. Brings me back to a time where I did not doubt my body image. A time when I felt there was no need to prove to anyone that I am a woman. I could wear what I wanted to and feel secure.
My overalls are still hanging in my closet at home and waiting for me to shed the outer weight so I might wear them again.
My career dictates a certain amount of style that overalls would not be part of. My closet holds a myriad of personalities.
Which one is really me? All of them? None of them?
I sit here in jeans feeling slightly cocky, I must admit I am longing to go in to New York and shop for some clothes that fit the me who I am now. The more feminine me, the one who likes the feel of a skirt around my legs when the wind blows.
My outer wear reflects how I am feeling inside. In truth when the clothing is shed and I am left without the security I have no idea who I am. Even then I hide beneath the blankets and protect myself.
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