thistledown


powered by SignMyGuestbook.com

Get your ow
n diary at DiaryLand.com! contact me older entries newest entry

2002-08-06 - 7:53 p.m.

Time: 1967-Dismal Seepage, Missouri

"Pull Your Self Together for Peanuts"

The title beckoned to me from the magazine stand in the tiny grocery story where I sometimes slipped in to buy candy before school. On the front of the small paperback book was a breezy picture of the author, one of the reigning super models of the mid-sixties, named Barbara Johns Waterston. I flipped through it quickly. HERE was everything I needed to know: all the advice about how to be a groovy New York gal. What amazing good fortune that such a treasure had landed in Dismal Seepage. I readily shelled out most of my weekly lunch money and began what was to be a long and worshipful relationship with this, my bible of hipness.

(To understand this relationship, you have to slip backwards, out of the information age, and into the isolated world of small town life. Where you could get one local station on TV. Where the library was the size of an average office worker's cubicle. Where the single theatre only showed one ancient movie a week. Where there were so few sources of information about the outside world that I walked around with a random, unfocused sort of longing, sensing there was so much I didn't know, but not knowing how to even find out what it was. )

Barbara Johns Waterston did not perceive that she had any sort of responsibility to present balanced or healthy advice. She was glamorous and opinionated and full of herself, and I loved it. I believed every word she said. Some of her advice was pretty good, though. This was my first exposure to the idea of coordinating your wardrobe around versatile basics. She came up with a list of "must-haves" and my friend Rena and I became obsessed with trying to acquire everything on the list. Since most of the things were not available in Dismal Seepage, we were forced to try and sew them..... with less than spectacular results. I particularly remember a couple of unfortunate looking A-line skirts produced because we were supposed to have navy and brown skirts in our wardrobes. However I was introduced to the idea of buying really good leather shoes and bags and then wearing/carrying them forever-- which I still do.

But she made me feel guilty for wearing a bra: completely unsexy she said (but so is the alternative if you are not as skinny as a supermodel.... and that's what you really feel guilty about) and eating mayonnaise ("I once gained 20 pounds just from putting a little mayo on my sandwich at lunch!" she warned.) and a host of other things. Most of this stuff was laughed off later of course, and BJW had landed in the garage sale by the time I went off to college.

Probably her biggest disservice, to me at least, was the advice she gave about image: Never let them see you sweat. Never tell anyone your problems, never admit your flaws. ("If you don't mention it, they might not notice, but if you tell them, they definitely will.")

This was advice I completely took to heart. I accepted her assertion that there was no excuse for not being gorgeous and well-put-together.... not even money....after all, you could do it for "peanuts." I worked hard to be perfect, and twice as hard to hide any evidence of imperfection. When the other girls were sitting around complaining among themselves, as girls do, about frizzy hair or plump thighs, I never said a word (although I had both). Maybe they won't notice.....

Her advice may have been appropriate for the New York modeling scene, but for an insecure girl trying desperately to learn how to present herself to the world, it was a distorted message. In truth I was convinced that my faults were so much worse than anyone else's that I was absolutely required to hide them if I were to survive socially.

And so began a lifelong belief and behavior pattern. Present a perfect front. Never let anyone see your flaws, your mistakes, your first drafts, your lapses, your false-starts, your bad side. It is a huge burden to carry, because of course I have as many of those things as anyone else.

In my life I have spent amazing amounts of time trying to be perfect because I was convinced that I wasn't worthy of love or friendship if there was anything "wrong," with me. We are constantly bombarded with shoulds: all the ways we are supposed to improve ourselves. The irony, (the "vicious circus" as my coworker would say) is that nobody likes "perfect" people. So if you are successful (or appear to be) then you keep others at a distance or alienate them. If someone didn't like me, I would think it was because I was flawed in some way, and so try harder to be "more perfect" and therefore deserving of approval.

Makes you want to scream, doesn't it?

I am thinking about this today because Skootie and I had one of our stay-up-late conversations last night. About being perfect vs. being vulnerable. It is one of the things we have in common: we are both somewhat tortured perfectionists. Trying to understand how letting our guards down and letting people see our weak sides can be okay. Trying to feel okay about asking for help once in a while. It seems to be one of those things you have to learn over and over, or maybe just a little at a time.

I used to think being a perfectionist was one of those non-faults. Like if they ask you in a job interview what your weaknesses are, it doesn't make a negative impression to say, "Well, I tend to be a bit of a perfectionist." When everybody knows that means you are actually closer to perfect than the average bear.

But I have changed that opinion. Because I have begun to see how being a perfectionist about my art can strangle creativity and spontaneity, and in fact rob me of enjoying any process at which I can't be perfect. And being a perfectionist about myself can separate me from people I want to know.

I don't want to be perfect any more. I don't even want to pull myself together for peanuts.

previous - next

< ? Random Acts of Journaling # >

alchera ? !

about me - read my profile! read other Diar
yLand diaries! recommend my diary to a friend! Get
 your own fun + free diary at DiaryLand.com!