Monday 25 October 2010

In My Head, I'm Dancing Naked...

I really should start blogging slightly earlier in the day - it might be because I'm getting on a bit, but by this time at night I'm ready for my drastically ugly dressing gown, a brew and a no-brainer Black Lace novel.

I'm still in said dressing gown but, rather than the above (and vastly more preferable option), I'm sipping cheap 'n' nasty energy drink and endeavouring to dress my recently acquired hat.

Honestly, if somebody had come up to my 12 year old, would-be-Wednesday-Addams self and said; "Honey, eight years down the line you'll be stressing over what shade of suede court shoes is going to match your 1940's, hand-veiled, vintage cloche" - first I'd likely have looked utterly confused then I'd have cried and ran away.

In many respects I've really not turned out how I pictured I would but I'm fairly happy with both my emotional and physical developments, especially over the past few months.

Speaking of physicality (and getting to the actual point), the incredibly recent changes became strikingly apparent in the shower this morning - for the first time I took a good long look at my body and suddenly realised 'Shit, I'm woman shaped'.

[I'll clarify for the men who read this - you may not notice the difference between a 'child with breasts' and an actual woman but we do.]

Everybody begins absolutely shapeless, one line top to bottom...the magic of puberty happens and you see the arrival of tits and hips in the early developers (or whatever other politically correct way you want to dress up the children built like playboy models).

Yet, despite these archetypal feminine signifiers (the sort that allow you to blag your way into bars when you're 14) there's a certain sense of disproportion about the whole thing - it has become increasingly easy to spot with the rise in over-sexualisation of under 16's...you can dress them up in whatever adult fashions you want, slap on some fake bake and hair extensions and still something just looks a bit 'off'.

As a bottom heavy girl it always bothered me, I've striven to return to my ambiguous androgynous shape for years purely to kick myself into the even proportions I've always equated with adulthood...

Except, whilst I was distracted, nature happily evened me out and I've eventually achieved (without dieting or sweating like a paedophile at a playschool) a body I'm proud of, almost over night.

[I would like to take this moment to thank the 'Nork Fairy', I never believed but eventually you came through for me, cheers.]

Suddenly I don't feel like a twat for buying my underwear from Pandora's Choice as opposed to Primark, or owning a dress that comes down to my calves, wearing barely-there heeled shoes or a cute hat - I don't need to cinch, pad or flash my way to womanhood...you can just tell.

I feel more naturally beautiful than I have in a long time, but a little decoration never goes amiss. I'm a blank canvas now and I have the paints at the ready.

Annie.

<3

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