the costume makes the clown

Over the weekend Neil and I went to a costume party held by a friend from work. It went really well, and I will attach a photo at the bottom of this post so you can see me as Queen Victoria and Neil as a hunky King Arthur.

Getting the costume organised was a moment of stress for me. The invitation called for us to dress as someone famous (dead) from history, and all of the people I could think of were either men or old ladies. Apart from people like Audrey Hepburn and Marilyn Monroe, who I knew were already coming to the party, and who I could not really hope to emulate due to their amazing sexiness and style. We went to a huge costume store near the city and rather than let us browse the costumes and choose, the staff asked what costume we wanted and then found it for us. Consequently, I ended up with the ugliest, most shapeless dress you ever saw, which was kind of a Gone With The Wind dress but they said it was okay for Queen Victoria (one of my ideas). I was extremely depressed when I tried it on, as it made me look hideous. There I was surrounded by sexy Catwoman, French maid, school girl type costumes and gorgeous skinny women trying them on, and I was wearing a black polyester sack. Ugh. It came with a hoop petticoat, which did NOT help, and they gave me a weird gold headband crown. In the end, I decided to just take the outfit and try to dress it up a bit. It seemed clear from the attitude of the staff and the other customers that there weren’t a lot of options for plus size costumes… The staff member asked me “What size ARE you?” and when I told her, two other customers turned and stared at me. It reminded me of the embarrassment I had shopping for a wedding dress (when I was even heaiver than I am now), when I ended up getting a dress made for me as the stores were so rude.

Anyway. I guess it reminded me that it's nice to have control over our lives in some ways (like choosing every day what we wear, and making ourselves happy and comfortable with fashion) and when we have to step out of that zone it can be confronting. I hardly ever feel that crippling low-self-esteem these days… being loved/desired has done wonders for me in that area. But I had a rough day at the costume shop. Neil kept telling me to try and find something else, but I really just gave up. I felt like I was being punished for not losing more weight after my surgery and not making an effort. In the end, I found a purple crown and sceptre/wand in Toys R Us and also some rocking elbow-length velvet gloves that cheered me up! I think the costume ended up a success, even though the party was full of fabulous Audreys and Marilyns I didn’t feel too bad.

when one's heart is in the way

I had a phone call from Dr A this morning, wondering why I hadn't shown up for my 8:30am appointment. Because I thought it was at 3pm, I replied, truthful and embarrassed, with a part of me thrilled to have (for the first time) demonstrated behaviour outside the "acceptable". I've read so many comments about psychologists and psychiatrists not wanting to take on Borderline patients, for a lot of reasons, one of which is that they can be unreliable and cancel appointments, reschedule appointments, leave early, arrive late, in an attempt to manipulate their doctors. Or maybe they just wrote down the wrong time in their diary. It can happen! It was weird, to hear Dr A's slightly stern and questioning tone, almost apprehensive about what state he would find me in. As if I must be bed-ridden and avoiding, or molten with melancholy, unable to face him. I'm not sure if I'm disappointed or relieved to actually be just forgetful and inaccurate with my diary.

I was happy to not have to go to therapy today, not because I was any of the thing listed above, but simply because I usually don't make appointments for Thursdays. Thursday is my one day off during the working week, and I love it with a passionate intensity usually reserved for...well...I don't know what, but I used to be passionate and intense about things other than time off from work lol. These days, I just like to have my own timetable, and not have to be anywhere or see anyone. Even now I am non-avoiding, and trying to be interactive with the world, I leave Thursdays alone. The potential of them stretches out in front of me like the most inspiring and wonderful blank canvas - even though I usually just watch TV or go have coffee with my stepdad and nanna at the local shopping centre.

One of the reasons I was happy to avoid Dr A is the eternal question of WHAT TO WEAR. I have three distinct wardrobes, the Manic (push-up bras, heels, lowcut tops, dangly earrings), the Barely Functioning (track pants, sweats, anything shapeless and stretchy, preferably dark colours, greasy hair in a scrunchy) and my current wardrobe of somewhere inbetween. Inbetween is a work in progress, and I usually have to decide if I should wear a hat (which I like to do, fashion-wise), in case Dr A thinks it's because I am depressed and haven't washed my hair. I have to decide whether to wear makeup (haggard and washed out versus trying too hard and/or over-activated), whether to wear sneakers and jeans (casual or giving up?), or a flattering top and skirt (trying to transfer/crack on?). I know for a fact that how I present myself as a psychiatric patient is something that is noticed, and probably recorded and analysed. I know, I know, paranoid much? But, it's common sense to think that a shrink would take stock of my physical state as well as my mental one.

As always, as with every damn thing in my life, I over think and over stress. I can't say I lose sleep over the question (WHAT TO WEAR), but I definitely spend time on it. So after hearing from Dr A, and getting the reprieve, I happily put on my favourite baggy jeans, a cute pink shirt, and my fur-lined pink Crocs. This afternoon, we're heading to the shops for a coffee. And for just a moment or two, I imagine that this is what happiness feels like.

(Thanks to Tori for today's blog title, from Moment in Time)