GO BIG OR GO HOME!

Confessions of a Renegade Girly-Girl

I was an ugly duckling all through school.

I grew up in a world where makeup, pretty clothes, music and television were considered to be sent straight from the devil, and were therefore strictly forbidden.

The farm where I was raised had no running water, no indoor toilets or showers; and for the first year, we all lived in one room with no electricity.

I was a strange little thing, better suited to interacting with offbeat religious adults than kids my own age.

In the Orwellian world of the under twenty set, being strange does you no favours — and I was no exception. I reacted to the disdain of my peers by making myself into the invisible girl with the bad personality.

My strategy worked beautifully.

My husband loves to tell me that when he met me I had perfected the art of dressing in beiges and light greys. Then he gives a big grin, flattens his hand in the air on an upward graph and says, “But you’re this girl.” He means I change a lot, generally on an upward trajectory.

I do change — often, radically, aggressively; but before him, never knew it was any sort of strength.

He has spent the last eight years diligently working on my sense of self worth. I’m a little surprised to realize this.

One just assumes you are the person to work on your own sense of self worth; but really, this time it’s been him. And through his eyes, I see how that strange little girl I was has translated into a strange little woman who is no longer the invisible girl with the bad personality.

I’ve embraced the strange and discarded the invisible.

I love pink and sparkles, diamonds and frou-frou bits; I think having a facial and getting my nails done means it’s a perfect day. I have a Mohawk with razor tattoos cut into the side of my head. I wear heavy boots with pretty skirts, and Pippi Longstocking pink and black socks with combat shorts.

I’m no longer too insecure to have an opinion when I sit in my hairdresser’s chair, and I never leave in quiet disappointment because I told her to do what she wanted, hating the result.

I wear clothing in my size (rather than 2 or 3 sizes too big) in whatever colors happen to suit my mood. Eyeliner and I have become good friends. And while I’m pleased if my husband likes my style choices, he doesn’t have to.

They’re my choices, and I make them for me. People notice me and I no longer hide.

“Go Big or Go Home,” I say, for I’m a renegade girly-girl.

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By Linda Irvine . First Published in Island Gals Magazine . 2011 . Volume 1 . Issue 2

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