Everyday Dress-Up

I don't know when it was I decided I wasn't saving things "for good." I do remember hearing a story about a little girl not allowed to play with her fancy dolls. She probably died, and mom felt bad. It was significant enough to make an impression but not important enough for the details to stick. I've heard a million stories just like it--the evening gown never worn, the china never used or taken from the box, the silk lingerie in a drawer. All these tales end tragically and tell us to appreciate what we have and to live in the moment. Too many people die without fulfilling the self-imposed requirements to use all the special things. Thinking of my mom's china and Waterford crystal that, at the time, made its home in cardboard, this seemed like good advice to me.

I don't own much in the way of china or crystal. I don't have any fancy dolls. I never had many extravagant things, because I never had much use for them. The few things I do have get used and loved often. The only stuff packed away is junk we probably don't even need. I've done well in taking advantage of our blessings.

Still my life is rather ordinary. I get dressed up for work or going out on the rare occasion we do. I put make-up on only when I have to leave the house, and if I'm just running errands, I might skip it then too. My hair gets washed and styled for the same reasons. In fact, today I pulled my hair back in a ponytail and put on a hat--a sure sign I'm not working or going out. My days at home often found me in sweatpants and a t-shirt, no make-up, and hair pulled up, unwashed. Since I started working, I do that less often, but I still do it about once a week. The other days off only find me dressed a little better, in jeans and a shirt or sweater. My hair still spends far too much time bunched in a rubber band, and my face is more often bare than not.

Lots of people ask, "What's wrong with that? Who doesn't dress down while at home?" There is nothing wrong with it. I'm not a bad person for relaxing my standards, and it's quite acceptable for anyone else too. My problem lies in the fact that I feel less happy with myself. Being that laid back is not what I want for myself.

Since before I can remember, I was a priss. My mom used that very word at least until I reached high school. I loved dresses and frills, make-up, and styling products. I banned denim from my wardrobe my whole sophomore year. I wasn't so prissy that I couldn't tromp through the creek, make mudpies, and play games. My love of dirt and love of all things girlie happily coexisted for years. I once climbed the rope in gym class while wearing a dress so I would remain in the "Top of the Rope Club." What's a little underwear exposure to that kind of fame? I doubt any gym teacher would allow it now, and mine probably shouldn't have then. But she did, and I maintained my "Top of the Rope Club" prestige while wearing my favorite dress.

As I got older, there was less dirt in my life, but I still had a sense of adventure that counterbalanced my prissiness. I still went camping with my family, in a tent no less. I played crazy games with my friends, like handcuffing two people together, setting them loose and having everyone else go find them. I participated in school sports. I also spent hours in front of the mirror messing with my hair and make-up, and once I got a job, bought lots of clothes. I was perfectly happy being a girlie tomgirl and never questioned the duality of my nature until college.

That's when relationships took over my life. I started doing things to be loved instead of doing what I loved. Even when I was most often the dumper, some crappy things were done and said to me that eroded my confidence. I ended up dating a man who tried to choose my friends, questioned my clothing choices, and constantly made suggestions on how to style my hair. When he came over to select an outfit for me to wear to his office party, I knew the relationship was wrong, but it still took a pregnancy and abortion all by myself before I finally left.

Life didn't get better from there. I'd already lost myself. I'd fallen into the trap that happiness lay in a relationship. I dated almost continuously since my very first boyfriend. Instead of feeling confident and desirable from achieving such a feat, I felt lonely and incomplete. Happiness did lie in a relationship, but it was in a relationship with myself.

I have been busy pushing that relationship away for years. I was too busy trying to save romance after romance and fit into other people's ideals. I haven't spent enough time with myself, which ended up expanding into not spending enough time on myself either.

Every once in a while I will goof off with some make-up, curl my hair, or even try on one of the few dressy dresses I can get into. I still love the priss in me, but she doesn't get to play so much anymore. She needs to come out more. So does the girl who likes to play in the mud. In fact, mountain biking in an evening gown might be what I need to snap me back to the days when I was "Top of the Rope Club" princess. Yes, it's wierd, but that's who I am.

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