Saturday night I went over to the mall with my mom to check on my brother. She wanted to make sure that he was okay. They’d had an argument that was really bad that afternoon before he left to go to work. It was so bad, my nerves were shot just listening to it. Anyhow… when we got there, Mom dropped me off at the lower level of Macy’s, since that was the closest way to get to the store he works at in the mall.
I don’t go to the mall often. I’m not that kind of girl. I never was… for several reasons. But for some reason, that night… I wanted to be. As I strolled casually through Macy’s in my $4 thrift store jeans and a Batman t-shirt, I glanced at all the things on the racks, the purses on display, the perfume gift sets, the knee high boots in the shoe section… taking all of it in. Several sales going on, of course, yet nothing there that would have been priced in the range of money that I usually spend on clothes.
All very nice things… and since my weight loss, I’ve noticed more things that I would actually like to try on. So many nice things. So much makeup and perfumes to make me feel more like a girl. After all, I am the jeans and hoodie girl. Hair pulled back with a clip or a ponytail holder. I work in a field that is stereotypically male dominated. I wear a uniform to work and combat boots. Oddly, I felt a bit out of place, yet I wanted to belong.
Then I went around a corner, heading to the main mall area, and a group of girls came around the corner. They were younger, perhaps early to mid twenties. Dressed at the height of fashion, laughing, having a good time, laden down with shopping bags. I was startled momentarily. They all had on their makeup, looking the best they possibly could. Yet, after all the shopping they’d done, all the time putting themselves together, they seemed full of laughter and energy.
After they’d passed, I continued on out into the mall, headed to where my brother worked. I didn’t go in the store, as it’s an upper class boutique, and I wasn’t really dressed to go in there, with jeans that were a little too big, a superhero shirt, and a ponytail. I just was waiting for a glimpse of him, to make sure that he was okay. I had to wait a few minutes… and it struck me. There I was, in the mall, on the outside looking in, where when it comes to the world of trendy and fashion… and beauty… where I’ve been most of my life.
Don’t get me wrong, most of the time, I’m comfortable in my own skin. I know who I am and what I am. Normally, that’s not my world. But that night… I wanted to belong. I wanted to be dressed up (for me), wearing makeup and trendy boots. I wanted to be trying on clothes, finding stuff that I felt I looked good in and wanted to wear to go out with friends. I know that won’t ever be me. I’m okay with that, most of the time.
Thought that out of all the people in the world, the only person without the potential to meet you in person is yourself. We only see ourselves in photographs, mirrors, or videos. Never an actual face to face with ourselves. Then I wondered, what does the rest of the world see when they see me? What would I see if I could actually see myself?
Once I saw my brother… and that he was okay, I turned to head back out of the mall. He’d seen me, and since I didn’t want him to worry, I stopped along the way to send him a text. Right when I hit send, he tapped me on the shoulder and wanted to know what was going on. So we talked a few minutes then I headed back outside.
When I got in the car, I looked in the mirror. I wondered… when will my reflection show who I am inside? Then I wondered, do or when will I ever know who the fuck I am inside? Because I wanted to be that girl… but I’m really not.
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