The frustration of being put in a position where I must rely upon someone else to fix certain matters on my blog are humiliating, if not a pain in the arse to all concerned (the ‘fixee’ and the ‘fixer’). Self-hatred was quickly climbing up in value.
Aha, but a stroke of ego-massaging! Someone had commented that they liked my blog, and that I should check out theirs in return, which I did immediately. There was an entry on what cosmetic products to use to get the perfect fuchsia lips for (North American) spring. I excitedly typed in a comment and provided a link to my own fuchsia-adorned lips (see here, link at bottom of post), only to be rejected and identified as a spammer. Yeah, well, fine then! I’ll just have to send my first trackback ever.
The common theme in all this wallowing was that yesterday, I didn’t just look like a reject, but that I was in fact a reject, a great big one, being rejected at every possible moment. Minus some pals abroad and interstate who are diligent with e-mail, NMD and one new friend I’ve somehow managed to make (unless I’m not forgiven for standing him up…) despite my constant dysfunction, the message I was getting, not just from ‘friends’ but from life in general was: sorry, loser, I’ve got better things to do so sod f-ing off.
This is all a very long-winded way of saying that my rant for this entry, and a few to follow, is about judgement; perceived or real, fear of, suffering at the hands of, and so forth. Largely centred around being judged on one’s appearance, but not limited to.
Let’s backtrack to the post office trip of yesterday.
After getting through my set tasks, I purchased two glossy magazines not at all suited to someone who looked like they lived in squalor: the March issue of Vanity Fair and the latest issue of Harper’s Bazaar Australia. I’m praying that I’ll be served by a female because as nasty as it sounds, I’m more prepared for the look of disgust they give me upon noting my unbrushed hair and pallid, cosmetic-free face (I don’t actually wear all that much makeup and especially not when I’m unwell).
2 Comments
Ah, love, it’s been a rough time of late! I’m sure your friends understand that shite just happens sometimes. You sound like you’re doing your best to get through it.
I think I know what you mean about perceived or real judgement on appearance. Apparently, I look a lot younger than I am, and I’m pretty sure some people treat me differently because of this. That is, until they get to know me. Sometimes I’ll think about a particular circumstance and wonder if that was why they treated me the way they did. But most of the time, I don’t worry about it at all.
And speaking of unbrushed hair and pallid faces… That was me this morning, in addition to wearing trackpants and a top that looked like night attire, with ballet-type slippers, I went down to put washing in the machine only to find a very neatly attired young woman in there folding her washing. I felt she was looking at me thinking I looked like I just got out of bed…which was pretty much the truth. I tried not to worry about it, I mean, it isn’t like I put makeup on to put the laundry on! We all have our days though, and you can’t help thinking, at that moment, why didn’t I at least, just brush my hair before I walked out the door? Here I was assuming what she was thinking about me, but I’m pretty sure that she didn’t give two hoots.
PS: By the way, I liked your fuchsia lips!
Hi VK, thanks for the appreciation of fuchsia lips! It’s probably one of the coolest colours I can get away with wearing.
I guess I’d been having a lot of trouble getting out of the house and on that particular day, I was determined regardless of how awful I looked, that I was going to make it out dammit! I had so much stuff to do that I dare not leave to anyone else.
It’s sort of sad, but judgement seems generally to be the resort of those who are less educated or incredibly insecure. At least, I plan to provide some incriminating evidence illustrating this in my next entry.
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