armor

I was thinking the other day about armor. Not the kind my kids dress up in—the kind I do.

We (suburban moms of young children) tend to refer to our clothes as "uniforms", mostly because we wear the same clothes every day. It's easier than having to think about what to wear, it's all-purpose stuff, it moves easily as we chase toddlers/preschoolers around, etc. For some of us, it's sweats, for some, jeans and T-shirts. You get the point. I think many of us feel somewhat imprisoned in our uniform, unable to wear something more exciting/attractive/fashionable due to the various restraints on our lifestyle. But the flip side to the discontent caused by looking the same every day is that you develop a comfortableness, a reliance, on knowing what you look like. Even if you're not necessarily happy about it, you unconsciously rely on it to project a certain image.

These thoughts came up on Sunday, when we attended a party with some of Lou's coworkers. I'd met two of those coworkers before, but none of the wives. And since it was a nice day, and since I've been trying hard to expand my fashion horizons and start wearing all the clothes that have gathered dust in my closet during my "pregnancy years", I dug out a sundress. Leaving the house, I felt comfortable. The dress fit me well (better than it has in years), didn't overemphasize any of my problem areas, wasn't inappropriate. But then I arrived at the party. And almost immediately felt ... overdressed. Too young. Too loud. Not refined enough. As though I had an embarrassingly large number of children. Simultaneously too permissive with and too overoccupied with my children. The whole nine yards. I felt like every female eye in the place was on me, and they were all critical.

This kind of self-consciousness wasn't atypical for me up to just a couple of years ago. Socially, I've always felt a bit like a fish out of water among "normal" people. But I've really worked hard at it in recent years, and had grown to feel that I had developed a certain amount of confidence in who I am, confidence that should have enabled me to walk into that party and feel that I was good enough. But, I was wearing a dress. I kept thinking that if only I had worn jeans, I'd feel so much more comfortable. What I'm not sure of is what would have made me feel more comfortable? If I were wearing jeans, would I have had the confidence to let go of all my old insecurities? (Since, let's face it, most of those people probably didn't think any of those things ... and if they did, it probably came more from me feeling uncomfortable than because they were truly critical.) If I were wearing jeans, would I have felt that I embodied all the things I thought the rest of the party-goers were thinking, and so it was okay that they were thinking them? Or, if I were wearing jeans, would I simply not have cared?

I guess my point is that I was shocked to find how much my clothes affected my comfort and confidence level, and how much they affected my ability to walk up to people and speak as though I were an adult on their level. I spent the first half-hour of the party wishing I were invisible ... and it's been a long time since I felt that level of inadequacy. I suppose, after almost 5 years of the "uniform", it's to be expected that venturing out of it would have its pitfalls. And in no way am I renouncing dresses, or skirts, or any of the less mainstream items in my closet ... but I need to be more aware that who I am on the outside doesn't have to dictate who I am on the inside.