I have a little secret for you. I realize that its status as a secret will be over the moment this is posted, but think about me sitting here, typing away on my lap top, hoping no one peers over my shoulder, whispering the words in my head to make sure they are not heard outside of it.
In a few weeks, I will attend a wedding. Weddings tend to be dressier affairs. Considering that I work from home and have been known to work in my pajamas until I’m required to leave the house for some reason, just about every event in my life can be considered a dressy occasion. However, this is a wedding and for this, I must make an effort to look nice.
At the best of times in my life, I’ve not been one to wear a dress. I love the way they look, especially the simple summery styles. I envy the women who wear them with complete ease. It is the simplest form of getting dressed up: one garment, one pair of shoes and off you go!
However, I don’t have a body shape that lends itself well to most dress styles. This year, however, the empire waist has returned, and although my friends are bellyaching because it doesn’t suit them, I ran right out and found a dress and bought it.
The secret: The woman, who is committed to not being hung up on how she looks, is getting a little hung up on how she looks.
I’m a little out of my comfort zone with this dress. And it’s not just the dress. I’ll be at an event where I will be sized up visually and few people will get to know me. My self-confidence is getting rattled. I’ll want to stand between the bride and groom and make an impassioned speech to tell people that I’m o.k. with me and they should really get to know the whole me in the three hours we’ll be together as a group so they can see that I’m more than an awkward woman in a dress who keeps touching her hair to see if its in the right spot and readjusting her wrap.
But if I were really that confident, would I need to explain myself to a crowd of strangers I’ll never see again?
Before starting this project, I thought I had to be my definition of perfect. For me, that meant being fully comfortable in my skin 100% of the time. It meant that I had to never think about a diet again. It meant that I had to be able to look in the mirror every day and think stunning. I believed that when I was fully and completely over a lifetime of self-doubt, self-disgust, and self-loathing, that only then, would I be good enough to write and publish about self-acceptance.
And that’s the irony of it all. It’s my lack of perfection that I think makes me qualified to encourage us to to fall in love with ourselves. I’m proud of the fact that about 70% of the time, I feel great about me, inside and out. And I’m acutely aware of the other 30% and I work on it. But if I never get to 100%, so be it. Perfection is overrated.
Now you know my secret. I believe in what I do, and I live it the best that I can, but like most people, I have my moments.
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Trudi Evans |
| About the author: |
| Trudi Evans is the publisher of As We Are Magazine and an active member of the board of directors for the Eating Disorders Action Group. Her interests range from politics and writing to environmentalism and mixed-berry cobblers. She resides in Nova Scotia with her spouse Rob, their son Sam, and Sam’s cat Hero. |
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