Kelly Davio’s previous Waiting Room columns can be found here.
Driving home the other day, I was stuck behind a slow-going city bus bearing a large-format ad for a clothing store. The ad featured a man in a blazer being stared at (somewhat ominously, in my opinion) by a woman in a snug and elaborately style-lined dress, with oiled legs and flat-ironed hair. The text of the ad read “effort is back in style.”
I had to chuckle; dressing myself up the way that she did would take more than effort. For me, it would take a series of minor miracles.
Having serious muscular weakness means that, on tough days, holding up a hair dryer simply isn’t possible, and managing to get some mascara on without stabbing myself in the eyeball feels like a notable achievement. Putting on a dress with the zipper up the back, like the dress in the ad? Not going to happen. Send in the leggings, please.
Unhappily for me, my beloved leggings and yoga pants are favorite targets of public scorn at the moment: everyone wants a say on stretchy pants, including Montana State Senator David Moore, who believes that yoga pants should be illegal to wear in public and has introduced some legislation to better achieve his dream of a leggings-free Montana. Then there are the many school districts across the U.S. that have banned girls from wearing stretchy pants to school, ostensibly to shield young boys from the distraction of girls and their bodies. But Emily Dunnagan, principal of one such school in Petaluma, California, dropped the rhetoric about protecting those distractible boys; she was reported by Huffington Post as saying that the goal of the ban is simply “…to teach kids to respect themselves.”
Ah, self-respect. That was a term I heard quite a bit with regard to clothing while I was growing up in Protestant Evangelical Christianity. At my religious high school, we girls had to kneel and have our skirts measured by a joyless and terrifying administrator. Shorts and anything with spaghetti straps were strictly forbidden. Piercings were out, too, as were any “countercultural hairstyles,” whatever those were.
Our strict dress code was intended, I suppose, to cultivate this nebulous self-respect Dunnagan references, but the result was (at least for me) a cultivation of disrespect for others; I admit that I had, for a long time, dogged standards about not only how I should look, but also about how other women should look. When I was younger and healthier, I was so uptight about my personal style that I didn’t even own a pair of jeans. My wardrobe was all wool skirts, red lipstick, vintage sweaters, and heels. I looked down my not inconsiderable nose at women walking around bare-faced and in sweats or yoga pants. Have a little self-respect, I thought. A little dignity.
The problem with my mindset was that I assumed I could spot self-respect when I saw it in the wild. I assumed that it looked roughly like I looked.
I finally got a real education in self-respect this last July. In my doctor-ordered rehabilitation after surgery to remove my thymus, I was asked to walk. First for five minutes a day, then ten, then twenty. I was unprepared for how hard it would be just to stand, much less to get from my door to the driveway and finally to the sidewalk. I was equally unprepared for how difficult it would be to put on clothes—getting into a tee-shirt and a pair of yoga pants and finally lacing up my sneakers took a laughably long time, and the whole process was exhausting enough that I had to lie down as soon as I’d finished dressing.
Before long, I realized I could have one or the other: an appropriate outfit, or my prescribed rehabilitation. Screw it, I thought. I choose walking.
So that’s how I came to be the vision that I was, shuffling slowly thorough my neighborhood in my sunglasses and a pair of pajamas, my unwashed hair sticking up antennae-like as I eventually turned my twenty minutes of walking into twenty-five, then thirty. I could hear my younger self tut-tutting in the back of my mind. You slob, I could hear her saying. You can’t even stuff yourself into a pair of yoga pants? Show a little self-respect.
But here’s the thing: the me at age 32, subjecting morning commuters to my daily progress through the streets with my oily face, rogue hair, and pajamas has a whole lot more self-respect than did the me at age 22, with my full face of makeup and body-con outfit. My self-respect no longer hinges on how I look to others. Today, my self-respect means valuing my health, showing care for my body, and prioritizing my needs above the opinions of passersby.
While it’s true that I still feel my best when I’m in a snazzy little outfit, when my eyeliner’s perfectly flicked, and when my hair’s freshly cut, I’ve learned that I don’t need those things to feel happy with myself, or to respect myself and my body. I’ve learned that other women don’t need those things in order for me to respect them, either. And what none of us need? People like Moore and Dunnagan telling us what our self-respect should look like in public.
Tags: kelly davio, the butter, the waiting room
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*mic drop*
This may be my favorite comment of all time. Thank you!
Fabulous, thank you for sharing this with us!
Well if it’s any consolation, I live in Montana, and even the nutjob GOP laughed him out of the committee hearing with the yoga pants bill. (http://billingsgazette.com/news/government-and-politics/amid-giggles-house-kills-missoula-legislator-s-ban-on-provocative/article_4bb16307-51ef-524f-8039-def2883fad93.html)
But yes, people should, in general, stop being so fucking judgy about one another! And congrats on walking again! I grew up with a “grandma” who had had polio in her 20s, you could tell how well she was by whether she was on canes, crutches or the walker (or in her beloved golf cart). She made it into her 70s …
I am happy to hear that Montana was Not Having It! It seemed like pretty doomed legislation, frankly. Whether this guy is at all politically savvy is one thing, but I think this desire we have, culturally speaking, to dictate other people’s appearance express itself in ways that are just as absurd when you get right down to it. I mean, we have (had?) a show called Fashion Police, for crying in the night… I think you summed it up well with “people should, in general, stop being so fucking judgy about one another!”
KILLING IT, you are.
I’ll be returning to this piece. Thank you.
Thank you so much.
I am happy to hear that Montana was Not Having It! It seemed like pretty doomed legislation, frankly. Whether this guy is at all politically savvy is one thing, but I think this desire we have, culturally speaking, to dictate other people's appearance express itself in ways that are just as absurd when you get right down to it. I mean, we have (had?) a show called Fashion Police, for crying in the night… I think you summed it up well with "people should, in general, stop being so fucking judgy about one another!"
MG (and other assorted neuromuscular diseases) are evil.
YES! Thank you for writing this! Well done for being brave enough to go out in your jammies, and congrats on the improved mobility.
I saw an article about some upcoming film where some famous actor was playing a disabled woman, and it was described as, “She doesn’t wear make-up, because she doesn’t care about her appearance.” No, that’s not how it works. I used to enjoy playing with make-up before I became disabled, but it’s not really physically possible for me now. You know what? I actually appreciate it, and like it that more women feel comfortable not wearing make-up these days. We shouldn’t have to cover up our faces to be socially accepted, it’s nice when make-up is seen as an additional, optional thing rather than mandatory. I like how women look without make-up. Though it’d be nice if I still had the option, as it can be fun for doing occasionally, and I did look good in eye make-up.
As for clothing and style and so forth, primarily I wear what’s comfortable (which means maternity stretch bras – seriously, the Bravado Body Silk Seamless is *amazing*, try it), but I do get colours I like and try to look reasonably nice. That’s possibly more about being obsessed with colour, of course, I’m a quilter. I’ve put nice things on my wheelchair too, a combination of function and style that makes me feel better about using such a stigmatised piece of equipment. I don’t give a toss what other people wear, it’s their choice.
And people who judge us can take a running jump. I was about to point out that plenty of women don’t have the time or energy, e.g. with young children, but you know what? We shouldn’t need to have an excuse for not spending ages on our appearance. My partner and I got a bit more dressed up than usual when we went out for dinner for Valentine’s Day, including him wearing a suit with a tie and waistcoat (he looked yummy), and I think gel in his hair. He said later, “I’ve just realised that the amount of effort I put in for a special occasion is the amount most women have to do every day for work,” and I said, “No, it’s way more than that!”
A former friend had a go at me in the pub once because I mentioned that I don’t blow-dry my hair, being very harsh about “if you can hold a comb, you can hold a hairdryer” (nonsense). She was always on at me about my appearance, she appeared to think it was practically immoral for a women not to pluck her eyebrows. I’ve never gone for blow-drying my hair even before I was disabled, I find it trashes my hair and I don’t like the time it takes. And what on earth is wrong with that choice?!
An optional accessory rather than a mandate–I agree! I wonder if we will ever get to a place where makeup is treated that way as opposed to as a political statement of some kind (some people assume, for one, that you aren’t a feminist if you wear makeup, or, for another that you’re a religious prude if you don’t…).
I can’t believe the comb/hairdryer comment! Patently false. I hope this is why this friend gets the adjective “former!”
An optional accessory rather than a mandate–I agree! I wonder if we will ever get to a place where makeup is treated that way as opposed to as a political statement of some kind (some people assume, for one, that you aren't a feminist if you wear makeup, or, for another that you're a religious prude if you don't…).
I can't believe the comb/hairdryer comment! Patently false. I hope this is why this friend gets the adjective "former!"
Thank you so much.
Well said, Kelly. It comes down to having the courage to be ourselves in whichever way works. kaye
Well said, Kelly. It comes down to having the courage to be ourselves in whichever way works. kaye
THank you so much for writing this column. It is wonderful to hear from a fellow traveller, navigating the world with a disability that is not immediately apparent but significantly debilitating. I used to care about fashion too, now it is all about comfort and ease and who cares what it looks like. Learning to negotiate the world on our terms is the healthiest thing we can do. Please keep sharing your point of view, it is such a relief to hear it.
Jane(JaneJane), I can’t tell you how happy it makes me that you find some relief in what I’m putting out here. I’ve long speculated that the women are quietly feeling what I’m quietly feeling, and that maybe less quiet would be good for all of us. I’m happy that it seems to be the case!
Jane(JaneJane), I can't tell you how happy it makes me that you find some relief in what I'm putting out here. I've long speculated that the women are quietly feeling what I'm quietly feeling, and that maybe less quiet would be good for all of us. I'm happy that it seems to be the case!
My grandma and her two sisters used to run a clothing business where they would sew outfits for people who were in wheelchairs or who needed extra room for diapers or who would be exclusively dressed by a caregiver. That way, women (mostly) who still wanted to think about fashion could have things that actually worked on their bodies! (Hemlines that were made for sitting, velcro front closures, etc.) Unfortunately, they haven’t been able to keep going as they have other responsibilities and fading eyesight, but it was great for a while!
In my experience, when Person A implores Person B to, “have some self-respect”, what Person A actually means is, Person B, please respect the inner norms of Person A so Person A can maintain their feeling of security (this is because Person A’s concept of self and other isn’t appropriately delineated and Person A is probably repressing some fear and grief).
You are doing the right thing, I am very glad to know you are taking such good care of yourself.