Jan21

Tick Tock

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Tick Tock

Lately, I’ve been despairing over my grey hairs. Two years ago, it was a stray one here, and an odd one there. I blithely plucked these and hoped that two wouldn’t spring up in each place. My life must have become increasingly stressful because my hairs started to go grey more quickly by the day. Soon, at the rate I was plucking, I was starting to fear bald spots. So, about 6 months ago, I conceded the battle, made way for the inevitable, and started henna-ing my hair instead. Rather than picking a black or dark brown, I decided on ‘Mahogany’ so that the formerly grey hairs turn a bright red and sparkle in the sunlight in a most satisfying way. I’ve always been too vanilla to do anything outré  to my hair so I’m seeing this as the opportunity to introduce a little edge.

Despite trying to meet this life change with some grace and humor, I’ve not been able to completely sidestep an unease about getting older. And recognizing this persistent unease and despondency over my grey hairs in particular (I can never get all of them when I henna, darn it) calls to mind a plethora of moments/phases in my life when I’ve been preoccupied with, and have been sunk in gloom over, one or other physical shortcoming, real or perceived. My self-criticisms have ranged from the banal:

  • too wide hips, chubby belly-arms-thighs, too big breasts, too small breasts,

to the ridiculous:

Over the past several weeks, since I initiated my shopping fast and started this blog, I’ve noticed that I use clothes and accessories like make-up, or maybe like armor: to mask and  protect my ego. I never wear real make-up (with the exception of eye liner when I want to get really dressed up) but some days I apply a slinky dress and high heels to emphasize my legs and distract from my hips. Other days I deploy flashy earrings to brighten up an outfit and camouflage my (self-perceived) short neck. As often as I’m emphasizing, I’m just as likely to be minimizing. My feminist side is appalled by my covert preoccupation with physical appearance.

Rather than beat myself up though I’m giving myself a break. I think pressures on women to be womanly and attractive persist (for many reasons) and I’m not immune to those pressures. Instead, I’m hoping to take a gentler tack with myself to see if I can examine my dependency on my looks and perhaps, over time, develop a more stable sense of self, one less influenced by the vagaries of my mood and insecurities.

And how to get there? I don’t think I’ve mentioned before, but over the last several years I’ve developed an interest (personally and professionally) in Mindfulness. Mindfulness-based therapies have been developed for a number of issues including depression, anxiety, over-eating and even over-shopping! I plan to employ my mindfulness skills in the work of disentangling the mental knots I get into over outward appearance and physicality. Of course, I don’t expect to have any resolution in the near future. But maybe before I’m completely grey.

Jan17

Ugly Duckling

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Ugly Duckling

There used to be a time when I had no claim whatsoever to style. This was true for much of my life really. As I’ve mentioned before, I grew up in India at a time when it was becoming de rigueur for middle-class teenage girls to wear western style clothing as often as traditional Indian clothing. By the time I turned 18, Indian fashion houses were proliferating and making a name for themselves on the global stage. I, however, had not been sprinkled with fashion fairy dust and lagged behind my peers when it came to fashion sense. It didn’t help that my mother insisted on playing a heavy role in my clothing selection. Although she had been a sari model and was known for her impeccable style when it came to Indian wear, this didn’t translate into being able to dress me “cool”.

My style improved a bit in college when I came to the U.S. though I was too poor to do much about it. I spent the first two years in the same pair of jeans and acquired new t-shirts only by signing up for credit cards (for which I was ineligible) to get free promotional tees. I knew enough to be embarrassed by my attire but wisely, if I do say so myself, saved my pennies for non-negotiables like toothpaste and tampons. By the time I completed college I had replaced many of my outrageously outdated clothing items with fresher, inexpensive items and so was a good deal more presentable (for polite company, that is) when I transitioned to graduate school. My graduate stipend, though laughable, was still income and by being very very careful with my money I was slowly able to indulge my growing appreciation for well-fitting and interesting clothing.

PJ, who has known me since college, loves to tell the story of how I transformed from ugly duckling to stylish, self-possessed (and insufferably self-important) swan. I must confess it is pleasant to hear people remark on how they couldn’t imagine me being style-less; I suppose I’m proud of how far I’ve come. And yet, I can’t help but feel sentimental about my ugly-duckling self and can only hope that I haven’t traded up for a lemon.

Jan16

Criminals on the loose

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Criminals on the loose

Here’s a reason not to shop online: http://news.blogs.cnn.com/2012/01/16/zappos-com-hacked-24-million-customers-affected/?hpt=hp_t3

I got an email about my zappos account being hacked into (along with 24 million other zappos’ customers) and am now going through and changing my passwords on all my online accounts. Which just happens to be A LOT OF ONLINE ACCOUNTS! I don’t tend to worry much about things like having my identity stolen but this makes me think that one benefit of not shopping much will be having fewer online shopping accounts for someone to hack into.