Leaving the House with Body Dysmorphia and ADHD

Time moves faster when you’re running late. Fact. There are studies on it, look it up. This is what I say to my friends every time I’m late; instead of apologising, I make them read up about time perception.

It really does feel like that, though. I can never leave the house smoothly.

Especially when I have to pick an outfit.

Everything’s a mess. But the pile of chaos I leave on my bed every time I have to leave the house doesn’t even embarrass me anymore, it feels like a natural chain of events.

The pile of clothes is your potential. You try everything on to see who you have the possibility to be that night.  Everyone has potential in the comfort of their own home, opening the door is an entirely different matter.

My wardrobe is full but I have nothing to wear.

I will always sacrifice a look in order to be warm. I’ve covered up a cute fit with my granny-grunge cardigan more times than Courtney Love has circa 1992… to well all of Courtney Love. But the way I do it renders the outfit pointless because I’m just covered up all night. Courtney does it to be cool. I do it to be warm.

Yes ok this crop top looks cute in my bedroom mirror, while I have Doja Cat playing in the background. But what if, after I leave the house, I have to sit down some place?

I’ve yet to make peace with what my body does to my silhouette when it’s sat down. I know lots of people are much more comfortable in their bodies than I am. Good for them. I haven’t done the work yet. I’m too busy trying to figure out: one, if I can pull off negative space eyeliner looks; and two, if I even actually have the makeup skills to create such a look in the first place. Even though I’ve never practised this eyeliner look before in my life, I’m still optimistic enough that I’ll perfect it in the twenty minutes before the Uber gets here. It’s the potential.

I get out a top that feels bold. If I wear this top, maybe I’ll be the girl that can have a good night. The girl that can talk to strangers, make them laugh. The girl who gives compliments to other people just because. The girl who sets up a tab, a tab! Can you believe? The girl who goes home with more lighters than she came out with. The girl who can write her number on a napkin for the sexy bartender like it’s a 2010s romcom.

I psych myself up to be her.

… it doesn’t fit.

Or, I don’t have any trousers to go with it.

Or, I lose my nerve and I don’t think I can be her tonight

‘I’m just not a fashion girly!’, I yell at the mirror. But that’s not true. I kinda am a fashion girly. I’m just restricting myself out of cowardice.

I don’t yet live in the body that I want, so I don’t buy nice clothes for this body. The nice clothes I have don’t fit this body. They fit a future body I’ve proposed. But this means I never live in this body.  I never dress it nicely because I want it to be a temporary state. Like it’s only deserving of love when I have it the way I like it. This is wrong of course. And it’s not something that can be fixed when you’re already half an hour late.

One day I will be her. I live in the fantasy of ‘one day’. It’s like protection. Rejections at this stage don’t matter yet because I’m not her. I’m not living up to my full potential. I’m just a pile of clothes on a bed. Dreams at this stage don’t matter either because how could I achieve what I want when I’m not her, so I’m not ready to have good things happen to me. What will the photos look like?

I know that sounds bleak but I have genuinely gotten better. I really love dancing in front of the mirror in my underwear. I appreciate how my body can twist and whine and get low, even though my knees do click a bit now. I’m confident in my room, like a tween singing into their hairbrush. It always sounds better with your hairbrush.

I HAVE ONE PAIR OF JEANS

ONE!

Who invented jeans, honestly? I’ll be having words with Mr Levi.

 They are the only jeans that fit and look mostly ok. They’re high waisted, of course, and they’re long enough. And the amount of times I’ve just taken this pair off the clothes horse, still wet and cold, thinking ‘I have nothing else! My body heat will warm them up on the walk to the tube’...  Honestly, the science checks out. Ask any consistently late person. You can dry on the go. 

If you’re casual on the bottom, you gotta go hard on the top. I’d like to wear bolder colours. I see women my size wearing such pretty outfits but I can’t bring myself to replicate them. I do have my trusty ole black turtleneck. It’s fitted and shows off my midriff which I like. And with the right jewellery it can still be a statement piece.

I can feel a spot developing on my chin. My younger sister might have one of those things to cover it up with.

I resent the confidence of Gen Z. I am still extremely young, just so you’re aware. But no, I’m not Gen Z - and their confidence confuses me. When they get spots, instead of covering them with makeup like we were taught to do by the scriptures (Shout Magazine and Teen Vogue), they put a little star sticker on them. A little star sticker and suddenly it’s all changed. They’re reframing the embarrassment of having a spot. How dare they draw attention to their imperfections I think. How dare they have the confidence to make a fashion statement out of a spot! They’ve made their blemish cute, and edgy, subversive even.

But they’re still covering the spot.

 It’s still a way to cover it, it’s not so different to using concealer.

But this is the bold Gen Z way; they’re saying ‘I accept my spot, I embrace my imperfections’.

 Maybe one day I will embrace my imperfections. Fake it till you make it? I think the work is deeper than that. I do try.  My Instagram is curated to show every body type, I’ve stopped thinking affirmations are lame and I listen to the nastiest, dirtiest, grimiest music by female MCs which always does a good job of making me feel powerful.

Even though I’m not ‘her’ yet I still have the potential to be ‘her’. She’s my ideal and so, technically, I created ‘her’.

So, If I see someone whose shoes I like tonight, I’ll let them know.

Maybe I will nick a couple lighters tonight.

I’m still late though. That will never change