Evening of the White Dress
Wow, fantastic response for Janetha’s guest post! Thanks everyone! By the way, if you like what you’re reading here, please sign up for email updates! There’s a box on the side of the site. Look to your right. It’s pink. Just put your email address in it. And set your mind free. Let your love flow. Or, you know, get email updates when there’s a new post.
I had an amazing night last night. My fiancé and I walked down to the boat basin and looked at the Hudson in the dark, with the lights from the buildings glittering on the water. I was wearing this long, soft, gauzy white dress I bought a few days ago.
The skirt flutters and billows in the wind. I had a golden shawl, too, which kept slipping off my shoulders and lifting like wings. I felt like the heroine of a Jane Austen novel. Or a fairy queen. Or a southern belle.
I ran a little. Lightly. Not full out running. My hair flew back. I held the tips of the shawl and let it catch the wind like a sail behind me. I could imagine myself through a stranger’s eyes. Someone driving down Riverside. Someone waiting for a bus. They would think, “What a magical city! The women here look like fairy queens!”
Then I thought that they’d probably shake their heads and think, “Friggin’ drunk people, running down the street waving their scarves around.”
We went to pick up some diet soda at the convenience store on the corner. The lighting was really bright in there, and no one looked particularly impressed that a fairy queen had crossed the threshold. They looked tired and bored. I stood regally in the doorway for a moment, and a man walking by, talking loudly on his cellphone in very Frenchly accented English, turned to stare. The French still appreciate magic, apparently.
On our way back, the thought crossed my mind that the dress would really look much better on many other women. Women whose faces more neatly matched the criteria of fairy-like beauty. I suspected their eyes would be more wide-set. They’d have more pronounced cheekbones. Their lips—I could picture them perfectly. And they’d have thinner arms. For sure. Much thinner arms. Fairies do NOT have chubby arms.
But then I looked down and saw how the dress washed up against my ankles, and feathered out, and shimmied, and brushed against me so sweetly. It fit me perfectly. And really, I have just as much a right to wear it as anyone else.
I didn’t want to see myself reflected in anything, because I was afraid it would ruin the image I had in my head. But at the same time, I wanted to see myself reflected somewhere, to prove that I looked good. There was this one time, in a department store, when I turned a corner and there was an unexpected mirror, and for a second I didn’t recognize myself, and I thought, “That girl looks good!” And that is perhaps the biggest compliment I have ever received in my life.
Sometimes I believe it. It was also last night that I looked down at my body and thought that my stomach looked good, the gentle curve. Not good because it looked flat, but good because it didn’t. Is that even allowed? I immediately began to self-correct: “It can’t possibly look good! Stop making things up!”
What happens when we actually like what we are? It’s harder than you’d expect. There’s a voice in your head that has been trained arduously for ages (by an ancient master) to disagree with anything nice you say about yourself. It’s extremely logical. It knows you almost as well as you know yourself, and sometimes you think it knows you better. It whips out a power point presentation and starts detailing your manifold flaws with chilling accuracy. Remember that time you thought it might be OK that your legs are sort of on the short side? It’s not OK. It’s a disaster. It’s humiliating. You’ll never succeed in life because of those legs.
You say, “That doesn’t make any sense! Stop being dramatic!” And the voice says coolly, with a faint British accent, “Oh no, my dear, it is you who are being dramatic. Here, let me show you a projection of your possible career paths, due to the, er, stuntedness of your legs. Look, we’ll begin with factory worker and progress through to truck driver.”
You have to practically yell to defend yourself. To defend your poor stomach and its non-flatness. Sometimes you have to run down the street at night in a white dress. Whatever it takes.
Or set up mirrors in strange places. You might be surprised one day by how good you look before the voice in your head recognizes you.
* * * * * *
Un-Roast: My torso. It’s long and graceful.
Everyone: What do you love about yourself that you’re not supposed to?
Wei-Wei responded on 07 May 2010 at 12:51 pm #
Oh, that is a beautiful image… I could just imagine you, in a billowing white dress and a golden shawl. No matter what, you must have been a sight to behold. I’m incredibly proud of you… just keep letting that “Hey, I look good!” voice grow until it’s the ONLY one in your head.
I think the biggest compliment you can receive is one from yourself. And that is an indication of true satisfaction with yourself.
Wei-Wei
Jamie responded on 07 May 2010 at 1:01 pm #
Oh you crack me up. It is so true and so sad what you’re saying, but at the same time, it’s so funny the way you say it. You take something that feels shameful and private when it’s in your internal monologue, and you make it seem small and irrational when spoken out loud. I love it.
Is this the first time you’ve worn the dress? What always happens to me is I have a “magical” day the first time I wear something new, and I feel confident. Then for some reason the second time I put it on, it just feels like regular old clothes. Which is why I always feel like I need something NEW for special occasions, and I try not to buy into that sort of materialism. But we’re all really looking for more dresses like this one!
Natalie responded on 07 May 2010 at 3:20 pm #
Kate-you are a brilliant, brilliant writer…this is evidence, “Oh no, my dear, it is you who are being dramatic. Here, let me show you a projection of your possible career paths, due to the, er, stuntedness of your legs. Look, we’ll begin with factory worker and progress through to truck driver.”
True dat (well, not true, but true I think things like that a bunch).
2 things:
1) I remembered a really sweet compliment you gave me about my style. When we first met in class, I dressed like a homeless person. I kind of hated myself so I took it out on my appearance. I thought I was hideous so why bother trying to look even presentable. So I gave up. I wore nothing but sweats, hardly combed my hair, and generally neglected my appearance. Somehow, I got it to together and began appreciating myself enough to dress how I always wanted to but never thought I could pull off (said style involves lots of flowy tops and pants, leather accessories, and general hippie/india inspired clothing). The first time I saw you since our Fundamentalisms seminar, you came up to me in Hindu Phil and said, “Natalie…you look great! I love your outfit and your earrings.” I remember being in a really great mood that day because of you, so thank you.
2) I had an experience like yours (where you saw your reflection and thought “she looks great!”). I was riding the train into work and sort of glancing around. I saw this girl reflected in the glass diagonal from me and I thought, “Why can’t I look like her? She’s pretty.” And then I realized that it was me. It blew my mind. Of course I rationalize it away now, like “oh that was a good day” or “you weighed less then” or “if you had seen yourself from a different angle, you wouldn’t think that.” But I say this because yet again, you have shown through your honest that I’m not alone in thinking these ridiculous negative things about my image. You rock.
Natalie
janetha responded on 07 May 2010 at 4:11 pm #
you’re such a good writer. you should write a book.
and i bet you looked just perfect in that dress! it’s good to like things about yourself. shit, it’s great! i am so glad you looked down and told yourself that you looked slammin’.. because you were right. and i didn’t even have to see you in the dress to tell you that.
today i decided that my feet aren’t as bad as i’ve made them out to be over the past 26 11/12th years (crap im almost 27).. i was laying in the physical therapist’s office, barefoot, taking a photo of my ankles being treated (for the blog, of course) and i immediately decided that my feet, which i have been cursing for as long as i can remember, are really not bad at all.
now, i wouldn’t go as far as saying i like them. but i don’t hate them anymore. i don’t even dislike them anymore.
they’re fine.
love you!
Catherine responded on 07 May 2010 at 7:49 pm #
amazing post. i want the dress.
my unroast is my calves. they are looking good today.
apples responded on 07 May 2010 at 7:53 pm #
I bought a red dress last week and I wore it out for the first time two nights ago. I felt really good, and it reminded me why sometimes splurging a little on something like that for yourself is really important.
I love the way you described being outside by the river. I live in Boston, but I’ve been to New York a bunch of times, and know exactly the spot you’re talking about. It’s cool to hear you mention these places I’ve been.
I’m a little addicted to this blog…
Cari Ellen responded on 07 May 2010 at 10:14 pm #
Hi Kate!
I saw your Mom last night and she told me about this blog. I LOVE IT! I love the concept, I love what you share and I love the way you write. As soon as your book comes out, about anything, I want a signed copy!
I’ve already been on the computer reading for far too long, but I thought I’d post a hello and participate while I am here…
So here goes – What do I love about myself that I am not supposed to? Well, I love my breasts! Now that being said, you would never, in a million years, look at me and think “That woman has great breasts.” In fact, you might think instead, “Poor woman, she really got short-changed in the boob department.” And to tell you the truth, starting way back in 7th grade when I was named president of the “Itty Bitty Titty Committe”, my mammaries have been the part of my body I hated the most. I would pray every night to God, making deals like, “Just make me fat instead of flat, cause at least then I could DO something about it.” I even seriously considered getting fake ones in my twenties. (Thank goodness my then-boyfriend/now-husband talked me out of it). Don’t get me wrong, I have no judgment towards women who choose that route – it is just that, being who I am NOW, at 40, I couldn’t imagine still being happy with that decision.
Anyway, back to why I now love my breasts even though the rest of the culture may not agree with me… They are so cute! I love the sweet roundness of their shape. I love my nipples, too, in fact I really love my nipples. The color of them, the way they protrude in a juicy inviting way… I think part of my recent change of heart is a result of my age and my spiritual growth. (I have been trying to practice self acceptance and love – it’s working, yay!) The other part is the reality of the huge appreciation I have for my breasts now that I have watched them, single-handedly, nourish my babies! So, yes, after 5 and a half years of being suckled (so far), they are smaller than ever but I love them more than ever. So, who cares, rest of the world, I vote for myself in the next wet t-shirt contest!
Thanks Kate, for this!
XO
ce
laura responded on 08 May 2010 at 4:03 pm #
the feeling you’re talking about in this post makes me feel lucky to be a girl, because we get so many options of things to wear that can really make us feel beautiful. it’s amazing what a few pieces of fabric and some thread can do for a girls ego!! combine it with a balmy night and a handsome guy, and BAM! instant self confidence in a can.
unroast: today i feel kinda ugly and gross due to some major overeating from finals stress, but i noticed my bleary eyes in the mirror this morning and realized i have pretty cool eye shape. they look like little almonds and my eyebrows frame them nicely.
Ruth responded on 09 May 2010 at 8:25 am #
I’m glad to find your blog!
unroast: I like my general chubbiness, since it makes it me such a comfy lap for my girls to sit on!
Elizabeth responded on 10 May 2010 at 12:50 am #
Hi, Kate.
I thought of you and Eat the Damn Cake today. Over here in Washington, the sun was out and it was hot! It’s not very often that it’s hot in May here. I LOVE the sun! LOVE IT!!! I can’t really express how much I love the heat (yeah, I know I’m weird). My daughters put on their swimsuits and we filled “the pool.” My husband put his swim trunks on and kicked back in the sun. Hmm. What should I do?
This is how it always goes for me – should I put on a swimsuit or stay in my clothes? I want to put my swimsuit on, but… the same thoughts always run through my mind when spring and summer arrive. I feel bloated today, I’m flat, I’m white as a ghost, I’m not looking toned, my arms look yuck, my butt might look saggy, etc. The list goes on.
Not today – I started to question myself and I thought about both our blogs – and I changed into a bikini as quick as I could! I changed my mental state. I thought – I look good and I feel good too! I am nearing 40, have two daughters, and I look good! All this time, my negative self-talk held me back. Not today! Hopefully, not the next time either!
Hope you had a great day!
Shyra responded on 12 May 2010 at 3:57 pm #
Hi Kate,
Love this project. I don’t read it I consume it! Can I just say that, I had on the perfect dress and my sister made me take it off (you might be overdressed) and the rest of the night I was just uncomfortable in everything! EVERYONE kept telling me how good I looked because they could see I was unhappy. Life lesson learned: who cares if your overdressed, ppl are going to stare bc I’m amazing not bc of what I’m wearing. My white dress is a red dress. It’s a size 18 and it hugs all my curves in all the right places. My size 6 sister wishes she could wear this dress. I can’t wait to wear it for my birthday!
Kate responded on 12 May 2010 at 4:11 pm #
@Shyra
Rock on. Send me a photo of yourself in the red dress and I’ll post it!
@Ruth
Thanks for un-roasting!! Awesome one.
@Elizabeth
I love the bikini story. It’s amazing when I feel like writing this blog is actually changing the way I think about myself for the better. I can’t wait to do a post with you
Colleen responded on 20 May 2010 at 10:44 am #
I love the white dress. And I love this post. Such beautiful sentiments. You write gorgeously. I’m reading everything!
Hayley responded on 22 May 2010 at 10:42 am #
It’s important to hold on tight to feelings we have on days like this. It can be easy to forget about it or chalk it up to temporary insanity. But remembering will provide some evidence to refute that powerpoint presentation in the future (which totally plays in my head all the time, in exactly the way you described).
Eat the Damn Cake » Forbidden Love responded on 01 Jun 2010 at 10:19 am #
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