Mirrors and Reflections

Once I wrote in my blog info I’m fashion or office fashion, which is true…but I never said before I was scared of mirrors and what I saw on it.

It was something that my ex bitch could understand and we shared as perfect secret or pact to ourselves, to avoid mirrors. When we went to shopping centers, always at women sections there’re mirrors and mirrors. I always felt inconfortable, silly, like naked with clothes on. When I was in my early twenties, my mother put a big mirror in my room saying “don’t you know why I put that mirror there? It’s because I want you to see how ugly you dress”. My mom always had the capability to make feel miserable, cheap, complexed and several times she used to say “you have a poor selfestem”…and she never realized she was one of the major reasons I felt that way.

My mom used to drag me to stores to choose clothes. Of course, girls clothes that I hated. I never worn a pink thing on my life…just when I was 35 my best friend bought me for Christmas a hockey t-shirt, just because I felt a kind of reconciliation with that colour. I remember going to those shops, totally upset, mom choosing everything for me and me trying totally enraged what she chose. In the 80’s I don’t know why, girls fashion designers used to make blouses with kind of frawns…like clowns’ clothes…horrible. The worst, my mom had a sewing machine and she made some experiments on me…yuck!!! I was feeling like a little man dressed in the most humilliating feminine way….the worst…it looked horrible on me, everything, just pants and square shirts were ok, sometimes t-shirts not showing my waist, plus, I don’t have big breast, dyke style, small ones but firms.

When I was going out with my ex bitch she used to find clothes for me…me doing that for myself? No, I was scared to try. The curious thing is when I was a kid my mother used to buy me  green clothes….how much I hated that colour, she bought it dark, cacky, cactus, olive etc. I didn’t know she was washing my brain at that time. She did it well because my favourite colour now is green. I remember while a kid my obsession was blue, electric, ocean, light blue…at the 90’s I was addict to blue jeans…I got some blue blouses, office style, nothing feminine…dyke kind androginous…my weight is about 54 kg and 1.61 mt, which makes me slim…slim? I found myself fat as a bulimic pork.

That’s why I avoid mirrors, what I see is my past …a chubby teenager, who hated her body, that never accepted her puber changes…her face, her big head and big teeth…her thick black hair…I don’t find myself attractive…or beauty…just average or ordinary…but I want to be different when I dress…after my separation, my desintoxication therapy started with my own image…or maybe my own perception of myself…like…painting…I’m a frustrated artist.

When I don’t want to think what to dress I dress on black, I hate that colour because of public servants wear it…like an uniform…why everybody should dress in the same way? I mean, you can be fashion without wear that colour, Spring, Summer, Fall and Winter! But no, they wear it especially on Winter…the most depressing time of year. And after, they complain. I got just a kind of black pants…dark grey, that matches with everything…The other reason I bought that black suit was my father…he was sick and I thought he would die, I would need something for a future funeral.

I avoid brown, difficult for me because I got dark skin. I know everybody at the office check my clothes…they like it but nobody says it aloud…Ontarians are too politically correct…too much. Sometimes I dress the clothes my ex said they were horrible…and everybody says the contrary…my ex bitch told me once “if they say to you it’s beautiful is because is the contrary”…now I’m sure she said that to wash my brain and fabricate a little ugly ducking…for years her work was good…but not anymore.

Sure, sometimes I feel insecure, but after I feel confident looking and thinking how many combinations I can do with one piece of clothes…lately I was trying some boys stuff…I was scared…nervous but after…who cares? This is Ottawa, nobody cares…I care.

Since that traumatic mother-fashion and post ex-bitch fashion era…I decided to buy a mirror…and I feel good, I feel as I would have been reconcilated with myself…or my past…or that I’m confortable with myself, my sexuality, I, me, myself…


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