My bedroom closet has no doors. The open-faced, 6-by-10-ft space is adorned with mostly black and charcoal grey pieces that I’ve worn maybe five or six times.
The small bursts of colour that pop out of the dark mass – which aren’t really colourful (sage, olive, dark mustard, teal. Maybe one pink sweater in the spread) – are sections of predetermined sibling dresses and tops I’ve been acquiring over the years. What can I say, when I like a style I commit. I commit to the point where my friends and cousin threaten to rip something off my body and destroy on-site just so they never have to see it again.
The problem here is that I’ve never worn most of those pieces. And I mean ever. Oh, I tried them on in the store or when they first arrived after being shipped and then they went into limbo.
I had a plan to remedy that toward the end of last year but the way this pandemic is set up, I’m having to find ways to work around this cray cray sitch. I’m a bit nervous though.
COVID is enabling the Recluse in me to remain in charge. To keep The Diva locked away never to make an appearance.
I fear for The Diva. We were making such progress. putting on makeup and doing photoshoots and shit. Exposing her to the world in a controlled but therapeutic way. And now? Smt.
I couldn’t draw you better baby
I, like most women, have gained a few extra pounds since this whole nightmare started. Having a scale in my bedroom doesn’t help the situation. The accountability tool has begrudgingly morphed into a constant reminder of repeat failure that triggers yet, another one of my old ‘friends’ – comfort.
I’m fighting her though. Because above all else. More than wanting to stay healthy. I have this version of me in my mind that is changing, and I want to see where I can take her. The Diva is getting crafty.
There used to be two very distinct versions of Vanessa in my head. The first is the ugly, dorky nerd no one wanted to be around. The awkward extra friend people had as a failsafe to talk to or hang out with when their other friends, their real friends, weren’t available. The Recluse – she’s my dominant side.
The other version is The Diva, you know, the bitch who’ll never leave out without makeup on. The confident one. The explorer. My inner happy.
Well, they’re beginning to merge. It’s scary but I think also a little perfect.
Cause it’s nothing like the new freedom of two beings
They’re beginning to embrace each other and in some weird turn of events, reconciling their differences and trying to find a compromise. Don’t’ get it twisted, the struggle is real. I’m a Taurean after all and one of the most stubborn beings I’ve ever met.
I’m rooting for the merger though. Because at 21, I don’t think I want to be picture perfect. I think I want to be imperfectly perfect – beautiful but comfortable in my own skin and not pressured by the outside world to maintain a crazy-ass standard.
Some women feel beautiful sometimes. Some don’t feel beautiful at any time. Some just don’t feel beautiful in their mind.
I’ve been all these women at some point and I’m tired of trying to figure where I fit in the mix.
I thank God each day he made you
What I do know is that I don’t have to be perfect to be beautiful.
I’m using that as a starting point and waiting patiently for the Recluse and The Diva to get with the programme and catch up.
The Diva is willing to make a deal Recluse. Work with her already!
—
Song: Picture Perfect
Artist: Eric Roberson (feat. Phonte)
Album: Mister Nice Guy
Release date: 2011
You need to update your sister friend when a new post is up. Eric Roberson is the man.
Lol. I’ll be sure to let you know moving forward Vi.