You Gotta Fight…For Your Right…To Be Frumpy!
It takes a lot to be the 600 pound gorilla in the room.
I’ll be honest. For every single photo you see of me smiling and wearing tight jeans, I really don’t like to “dress pretty” most of the time. If you catch me in my day-to-day, I’m either wearing an artist smock, baggy palazzo pants and a baggier tee, or a track suit.
My hair falls down on my shoulders like a lion’s mane or a mop, depending on whether I give a shit enough to try to add product to it. I don’t wear much makeup in my daily wear, either. If you’re lucky, I’ll wear real shoes instead of my housekeeping slides.
This is not because I’m depressed or because I don’t care about myself. Ask anyone around me and they’ll tell you that I bathe frequently, stop by spas whenever I can, brush my teeth daily, and also am big into spiritual self-care.
If I’m comfortable and clothed, bingo. That’s all I need. And I like my drapey, tent-like clothing because they are light-wearing and breezy. Also, they hide my body — a plus for someone who doesn’t like looking too female.
Recently, I went to the mall and realized how frumpy I looked compared to the average mall walker.
In my area of New Jersey, malls are still very popular. They are where people go to show off their outfits, hang out, and yes, shop. It’s not just a teen thing; it’s an adult thing too.
Everyone’s got their hair done nice, wearing tight jeans, coordinated outfits, and I’m just…kinda two steps away from being sighted in the woods like a rabid Sasquatch.
I actually felt self-conscious for a moment, but then snapped out of it quickly. I reminded myself about why I don’t care and how it doesn’t matter — even though it’s baffled most people around me for as long as they’ve known me.
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