I’ve always felt uncomfortable about wearing anything different from how I would typically dress. For years, I’ve been practicing “blending in with the background.” I swear if I could wear wainscoting pants with flocked wallpaper shirts, that would be perfect. Stand against a wall and disappear. Don’t draw any attention. Either bad or good. Don’t show up looking like a bum…but don’t show up looking gorgeous either.

One day I (completely unintentionally) broke the “don’t show up looking gorgeous” rule. I let a bad influence friend (we’ll call her “Karen” because that’s her real name) lead me astray. First of all, I let her take me shopping. Then I bought the dress *she* liked…which was something I would never have chosen myself. It was a really long, really clingy tube dress. She thought it looked great. All I saw when I looked in the mirror was my sticky outy belly and my hippo hips. We were attending a Toastmasters conference and the theme was “Masquerade Ball” – complete with masks. The masks are what made what happened there possible.

I would describe Karen as vivacious. Physically, she’s an attractive woman, but it’s her attitude that makes all the difference. She exudes a confidence that says “I know I’m sexy and I’m gonna flaunt it.” Not in a snooty, I’m better than you (but secretly insecure) sort of way. More in an “I’m comfortable with my body, my looks and my sexuality” sort of way. (Bitch!) Anyways, she bought an extremely sexy, extremely revealing, full-length sequinned movie star gown for this event. And a sparkly kitty cat mask. This was very reassuring for me. I knew that as long as we stuck together, she would attract more attention. Perfect. This way I could be brave enough to wear my belly fat enhancing, clingy tube dress and while hiding my face behind a butterfly mask. I could be her dowdy sister sidekick.

Earlier in the day, I competed in a speech contest. I had a wardrobe malfunction there, as well. I guess my years of asking to blend into the walls had registered with the universe. Another friend (“Hello, my name is Patty and I am incapable of dressing myself.”) forced me to buy helped me select a red suit to wear for the competition. When I arrived for the sound check, I discovered that the stage backdrop was red. I swear it was the exact same shade of red as the suit. Karen and I had to make an emergency trip to the thrift store to replace my outfit (appearing as a disembodied head during a speech contest will cause you to lose points).

The contest ran a bit late, so we *assumed* (first big mistake) that the dinner would be delayed as well. Karen We thought we were supposed to wear our costumes to the dinner (second big mistake). So we got all dolled up, then we arrived about 20 minutes late.

We should have known better. This was a Toastmasters event. Toastmasters are known to be anal about mindful of time and staying on schedule. So dinner was well underway. Everyone was seated. No one was wearing a mask.

Karen and I hesitated outside the door to the banquet hall and considered our options. We could retreat back to our room and skip dinner. Or we could make an “entrance.” I was all for skipping and retreating. Karen, on the other hand, was all over “making an entrance” like Milo on a Milkbone. Karen dragged me through the door We decided to suck it up, enter the room and find some seats. I swear to God. Everyone stopped eating. All eyes were upon us. The room went silent. Karen stood tall and glowed, basking in the attention and walked confidently into the room. I crept along behind her, trying my best to think myself invisible.

Luckily for us, our friends saved us a couple of empty seats. At the far end of the room. When we finally arrived at the table (Three? Four hours later?) I was a wreck. I collapsed into a chair…and the beautifully dressed woman sitting next to me said: “Wow. You look fabulous!” In a *sincere* way. Complete with jaw dropping. I was stunned. It was the last thing I expected. For some strange reason, I actually expected a complete stranger to say the same mean things I was thinking about myself: “What the hell are you thinking? That dress makes you look like a fat cow. You should have chosen something less clingy. And you’re late…what are you trying to do – call attention to yourself? Look around. No one else is wearing masks. It’s not “mask time” until later. You should have known that. What an idiot.”

Ouch. Isn’t it interesting how we say things to ourselves that we would *never* say to a stranger, let alone a friend. Since then, I’ve made an effort to treat myself more like my own best friend. And I’ve started picking out my own clothes.

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Tagged as: introversion, shyness, silliness, social anxiety