This is not the first time I’ve heard “that’s not you.”
When I experimented heavily with my appearance in freshman year of university, my lab mate told me: “Just be yourself.”
Who is she to know what kinds of mannerisms are authentic and which are not?
The idea of purity, authenticity; the idea that a “true self” would be sweet and good and that any quirks or feather-ruffling is a feint on one’s soul…
I have to disagree.
Non-conventional appearances seem to be the common denominator here. This morning, I wore a CDG-esque top. By this I mean somewhat shapeless off shoulder top from Aritzia, baggy in nature. My dad had to insist that this clothing was “not flattering” and that I wasn’t thinking straight.
But what is fashion but an expression of how one feels? Form-fitting tops and feminine colors may be expected, but given the wide array of emotions one may be supercharged with… there must be an infinite combination of outfits to reflect that.
Dyeing my hair blonde upset my parents. (My objective is to reach an “ash gray.”)
They have to concede that I’m still me, even if I look trashy or weird or odd.
There’s a wonderful Venn diagram of identity and weirdness. Somewhere in the overlap lies self-acceptance. That’s what matters the most.