A lot changes in two years. Nevertheless, the sentiment of this still rings very true (and I've since reverted to an Oyster card-style holder - it's just a pretty Cath Kidston one) ...
November 9, 2008
For all my Romantic longings, the quirkiness of a London upbringing has left its mark. I like cute dresses from Darimeya and Yumi (a true Romantic would never wear clothing with cartoon-like pictures of dancing girls), 80s pop, and eclectic, useless little things like Momiji dolls (I only own one, but if I had more space…)November 9, 2008
I wish I could say that everything I love is elegant and classy, right out of the pages of Victoria magazine – but it just isn’t so. I am a combination of Romantic nature-lover and alternative kitsch kid. Becoming ‘more ladylike’ would mean giving up the funky little dresses and the longing for rollerdisco. And I cannot do that. I could try and force it out of my system, but that would be denying who God made me to be.
There are other personality traits that convince me I’ll never be a true lady. Don’t get me wrong – I want my character to be shaped into that of a Godly woman. But a lady in the general sense? Hmm.
For starters, there is my penchant for writing important messages on my hand – the word handwriting takes on a whole new meaning. I’ve tried Post-Its, scrap paper, plain notebooks, pretty notebooks, and emails to self. I still indulge in these methods from time to time. But having the message inscribed on my hand gives me a sense of security – I know I’m eventually going to look at it, especially as I bite my nails (another unladylike trait).
Frequently, I will snuggle inside the duvet only to remember something that I need to do. Right. I struggle out of bed, grumbling, flick on the light, whip out the pen and voila. I can go back to sleep, safe in the knowledge that my reminders for tomorrow are close at hand.
Of course, black pen on the outside of your hand (on the inside I’m less likely to see it) isn’t so appealing in the light of day, particularly when you’re holding a pole on the Tube, the graffitied hand in full view. Suddenly “Veet eyebrows tonight!” doesn’t seem like such a good idea. Worse still, unless I truly scrub the top of my hand, the ink will remain – slightly faded but still perfectly legible. And it was with horror that, while admiring myself in the mirror before a friend’s wedding, I noticed “Pack makeup!” emblazoned across my hand. And the bathroom was out of soap…
Speaking of weddings, I’m also the girl who will slip a black hair-tie on her wrist amidst the lovely gold and pearl jewellery, just in case (fully intending to stuff it in my handbag later), and then walk into the service forgetting it’s still there.
Then there’s my wallet. For almost a year, my “wallet” was my Oyster card holder. It had all the essentials: my Oyster, my debit card, a few loyalty cards and the odd memento. And the funny thing is, I wasn’t all that bothered about the funny looks I received on presenting it in posh department stores.
When it started to get grubby, I decided that it might be time for an upgrade at long-last. My wallet is an envelope-shaped brown purse (complete with cute popper button) with two slots for my Oyster and debit card, and a coin slot, but then there’s this lovely free space where I can stuff everything else :) It’s a sort of structured mess, and I quite like it.
My point is that no matter how lovely and polished I look, no matter how elegant or beautiful, these little goofball touches will somehow show me up. It’s inevitable. I think it’s God’s way of keeping me humble and honest about who I am. It’s been a long time coming, but I’m slowly starting to realise that I don’t have to conform to the image of a perfect lady as the world sees it. I’m not a sinner for wearing a funky dress and bopping to 80s beats. The ensuing inferiority complex and feelings of guilt are all my own. What’s more important is tending to my character, to my actions. Our outer selves are just a shell – it’s our soul that needs the makeover, not our faces. It’s our soul that will go to Heaven.
Ending on a lighter note, I came across this and it put the biggest smile on my face:
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