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Foolish Flaps

I bought a pair of Thai fisherman's pants off eBay and they came yesterday and I tried them on this morning. I love the color ("mangosteen" which ought to be orangish but it's a red-purple-brown), I love the feel of the cotton fabric and the way it flows when I walk, and I even love the puff of air across my legs as the side flaps open with each step.

But the flaps open too far when I sit, so I need to pin it or wear something underneath. And the doubly tied waist makes my stomach and bottom bulge even more than usual, so I should wear something long and loose on top. And mostly, really, it's an inner-me purchase instead of an outer-me one.

The inner-me is half my age, half my weight, and half a foot taller. She can walk in stilettos without needing full leg braces, and trek cross-country for hours. The outer-me is a lumpy ball of flesh who can barely walk down a flat sidewalk for more than a block, and the accompanying sounds are huffing and puffing and a popping knee joint, not the casually cruel click of heels. Sometimes we can compromise on ethnic chic, on Boho artwear, but I'm not sure this one will work. Eh. We'll see.

If we did look like our inner visions... I wonder who would recognize friends, family, anyone. Would the selves be cookie-cutter? all looking like airbrushed Photoshopped nonentities? Or would they be distinct enough, and would you know enough of the person, to smile and say, "There you are! I knew it was you."

Comments

( 4 comments — Leave a comment )
jenwrites
Nov. 24th, 2009 05:25 pm (UTC)
I'd like to think that my inner vision would be recognizable. I mostly want to tweak myself -- lose the belly fat, lift the boobs, kill the incipient jowls, magically get straight white teeth -- but beyond that, I think I'm content. Hell, I've even come to peace with my ski-jump nose with the slalom bump.
cimeara
Nov. 25th, 2009 04:00 am (UTC)
Your nose is fine, I never noticed the bump, I only thought it aristocratically defined, which is what happens when someone has a little round nose like mine. ^_^

More seriously, there are parts that I'd keep, too, and one would be my face (in general: a tuck here and there would help! also, eyelashes), so I supposed I'd also be recognizable. And, also seriously, the most annoying of the disjointed segments is the weight and physical unfitness, and those could be changed. But time, effort, commitment, etc., must also be found. :-(
tchipakkan
Nov. 24th, 2009 06:57 pm (UTC)
I hear you. (I could have written it except for what you bought- and the stilletos- although I have always had a thing for high heeled boots, so I suppose that's close).
I think we often don't recognize our friends, and then our brain catches up and we do, and then we relate to them as we used to. It's something I've seen often- expecially when you don't see someone for years or if they've lost weight or something drastic. As soon as we start talking again, we relate inner-to-inner. I think that's why it's so hard to lose old friends. They still see us as we were when we were younger. They see our inner beauty. I feel like I've lost a little of the beauty they saw in me when I lose an old friend.
God that's depressing. I hope it doesn't make you feel worse.
cimeara
Nov. 25th, 2009 04:06 am (UTC)
*hugs* You are still beautiful to me. But that's one of the reasons it's hard to integrate the inner and outer selves, even if some of it is still attainable: some isn't. To give up the ideal of what you'd like to be, is somewhat to give up. You lose that dream, that part of you, however real or unreal it ever was.
( 4 comments — Leave a comment )