Monday, 12 November 2012

Other People (Originally published Feb 19th 2012)

I have come in to contact with lots of other people in my life. People who aren’t me seem to be in abundance. I haven’t met even nearly half of them, even though I’m sure some of them are quite spectacular. Some of my heroes I haven’t even met, which is strange because I don’t know them and yet I idolise some of them. Lady Gaga, Miranda Hart, Miranda Kerr, Adele, Sarah Millican, Josie Long, Sam & Nic Chapman, Christina Hendricks, Missy Higgins, Dawn French, Marylin Monroe, Vita Boheme. I’ve never spoken to any of them, never tweeted or Facebook inboxed them let alone met them and yet I love them all. 

Conversely I have come in to actual human contact with some vile creatures. When I was at school I was quite badly bullied but that kind of made me better at being me. Being hurt doesn’t make you stronger and letting people treat you badly is never going to end up for the best. Ever. But after a couple of years at school I realised that people just assumed I was weird. They didn’t even tink about it anymore, they weren’t going to change their minds and I wasn’t going to be their friend for all the world. This gave me license to rebel, completely change myself a hundred times over. I wore boys clothes, I wore dress up clothes, I wore a high waisted pin up skirt that went down ridiculously badly. I found myself early because I realised that what I looked like had nothing to do with their opinions of my anymore. This newly found confidence made me obnoxious, stubborn and caused more trouble with those who thought I should be trying to fit in rather than wearing shoes laces in my hair (true story). 

This confidence and abundance of self esteem makes me able to spot someone judging me for what I look like a mile off. I have come across with people who haven’t given me jobs because they think I’m fat, firing me because I don’t dress the way they want me to. Worser than that, for it’s only a job, I've had people actively harass me in real grown up life because my image so offends them that they feel the need to profess their thoughts. That or they don’t think I’ve noticed, I have. I’ve been me a long time. 
I have rambled and I don’t think their is any sort of moral, as their rarely ever is. I know that I am lucky because I’ve basically taught myself to be motivated by people who are illogical or cruel but I also know that I can come off loud and abrupt and rude because I am used to having to self-parade my fabulousness because no-one will do it for me. 

I talk, and type, a lot. 

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