I was constantly told throughout my teens and twenties that my clothes, hair, skin-colour, face (yes, even face) wasn’t ‘right’ or as good as everyone else’s. Everyone else’s hair was shinier, shorter, longer, curlier, better. Everyone else’s skin was browner, donned with make-up, blemish free. I apparently looked like a milk bottle and my hair either made me look like an old maid, a washer woman or made my neck look so long that it seemed alien. Everyone else’s clothes were better, nicer, newer, tidier or more stylish. Everyone was slimmer or prettier, but then I was classed as too skinny and told that I looked like a bag of bones.
Everything about my appearance was criticised, mocked or commented upon. So I dressed one way, a bland way, so that I could hide away under the baggy jumpers and jeans. I tried not to wear much makeup and kept my hair simple (after a fair few horrendous hairdos instigated because my natural hair wasn’t good enough as it was).
During a key period of my teens, around puberty, my mum had bought me a pack of training bras. Not being a fan of anything new, I didn’t want to wear them and didn’t really need to at the time. However, my bullying family member had other ideas.
We were visiting another part of our family for a few days, so there were at least 10 of us in the house in total. In front of everyone, this person came over to me, ran their hand down my back and shouted “Get up those stairs and get that bra on now, or else”. In front of cousins, aunties, uncles, grandparents, parents, siblings, I was 13, I was mortified. Everyone stopped what they were doing, I ran off crying, but no one said anything, as usual and no one ever mentioned it again.
This led to the baggy clothes situation as I didn’t want to show any of my body off, especially anything to do with my top half. To this day I still struggle and never wear tight tops or anything revealing. I always cover up. Body-wise, I prefer to stay on the skinny side so that there’s nothing to show and in some cases have worn tight tops under other clothes to hide any shape at all.
Isn’t it any wonder that I grew up not knowing what my style was or even who I was. Rather than discovering what I liked, I ended up dreading change or not feeling confident enough even to buy clothes on my own in case they were wrong and I’d be shouted at (even at the age of 25, I had panic attacks when shopping).
Due to the bullying, I’m still struggling 10 years on. I know that I like classic styles and friends have recommended a personal shopper from one of the big department stores. As I don’t know what looks good on me, I’ve decided to give it a go. I need to see if it gets me over these issues that I still struggle with today. I would love to wear nice, flattering clothes, but know that I can’t do it on my own. So my fingers are crossed. It’s about time I put this issue behind me, once and for all.
Mission: Happy Me 