Self image has the potential to be the most powerful tool we have in our personal tool kit to propel ourselves forward in life. Equally, it can be the most disempowering of our natural instincts, destroying our faith in our skills and abilities. Indeed, a negative alignment with our perceived self worth can be socially, mentally and physically disabling, to say nothing of the longer term effects.
Like many, I was enchanted by the lovely Scarlett Moffat and her newly found friends from the Himba tribe, who grew close filming Channel 4’s, somewhat controversial, The British Tribe Next Door in the Namibian Desert. Screened last November, the docu-series became an overnight media controversy, simply because there are those that chose to miss the point, preferring a more biased opinion that the programme was simply exploitation of the inhabitants of the remote village.
The supreme and clear self empowering confidence of the beautiful Himba tribeswomen in stark contrast to the lovely Scarlett’s bravely open lack of body & self confidence displayed in the first episode, reached deep into my soul, my mind exploring the whys and wherefores of the differences in the two cultures, in regard to the rituals of the sisterhoods that bind women together.
Interestingly the tribeswomen had never seen themselves reflected in a mirror, a fact that poor Scarlett just could not comprehend, as she mentally counted the number of times in a day she might glance in a mirror as she was passing. What occurred to me at this point is that, unlike European women, the tribeswomen had not been raised to be reflective image conscious, as in not dressing or behaving to please anyone or anything else, especially the highly critical piece of silvered glass we consult endlessly, prior to stepping out of the door. These lovely ladies are clearly raised to look and to feel beautiful, and, as charisma just oozed from my television screen I sent up a little prayer that dear Scarlett would learn a trick or two about body and soul confidence while she was staying in the Namibian desert.
I tried to imagine how I would cope, not seeing my image reflected in a mirror. Rather carried away by this thought process, I decided that I would use a mirror only in the morning and at bedtime for a couple of days, a discipline that is actually still ongoing, simply because I am loving the freedom of my spirit, as I disconnect from my physical representation of my inner self, two facets that co-exist in conflict on a daily basis. What I feel is not what I see reflected in the mirror.
The first day I imagined I looked a mess, well, sorta knew inside that I did. Within two days, I didn’t even think about it. An unconscious change I noted is that I also stopped selecting clothes that perhaps feel a little uncomfy, but look great, in favour of items that I adore, yet possibly, are not the most flattering pieces in my wardrobe. By the third day, I had started to pick out accessories to adorn my outfit. I am a terrible hoarder of pretty things, a magpie I guess, and I have many trinkets that I never wear, I just like to look at the colours. However, since the mirror thing, I have worn adornment again. How weird is that?
By Monday of the second week, my choice of outfits was radically changing. I guess over the years, I have obeyed my mirror image, adapting my style to accommodate my changing shape. Returning to my core style has been a joy, bizarrely spontaneously evoking folk into voicing an unidentifiable change in me. The oddest event was my daughter even insisting on taking my photograph while I was standing in her bedroom doorway chattering to her, after remarking how lovely I looked. She knows nothing of the mirror experiment. Friends at a wellness group I attend remarked on me looking slimmer and yet I was wearing figure hugging clothes that the mirror tells me highlight every lump and bump.
So what has changed? Very simply, my ease with myself. I am no longer conscious of having a visual running in my head of how I look. This often nasty, highly critical gremlin seems to have left home!
My hair has been behaving simply because it is not being over brushed. I have been inclined to brush it whenever I am in front of a mirror, as I reapply my lipstick. Vanity huh? Both of those habits have ceased. I never wore much make up, just a bit of lippy and brow pencil, I am now down to a glossy kinda lippy that I can apply without a mirror and if I bother at all, just do the brow thing in the morning, if I remember.
So, I ask you this. How many of us are driven by that reflection in the mirror to be self critical to distraction? Do you tell yourself you look beautiful, or do you fiddle with the bit of hair that refuses to go in the same direction as the rest? Are we slaves to the bits of reflective glass we encounter through the day? The rear view mirror? The compact? The selfie facility on your phone or pad? The decorative mirrors around the house?
The escalation in non surgical beauty procedures reflects our obsession with our self image. We live in an age where Botox, lip fillers, and non surgical face lifts are seemingly essential to men and women as a daily vitamin supplement. With every needle that delivers a Botox shot, the message that the recipient is unhappy with their self image is, somewhat painfully, delivered into the flesh.
Mentally filing away that subject matter for another blog, I wonder if I am alone in noticing that many of the actors in glamourised reality shows look very similar? All hair extensions and over plumped lips pout across our screens followed by the wiggle of their over emphasised bun lifts.
We are taught from an early age that mirrors are our friends. I personally have come to the conclusion that, actually, that is not so. A mirror can only reflect to you what you think you are conveying, because, us girls, we pose, we pout, we flirt with the mirror. But the reality is, that we don’t strike those same poses on the number 9 bus into town in the morning, so when we catch sight of ourself in the bus window, it is a shock. We are constantly dumbing down our self image, because, when we are preparing for the day we do the exact opposite, we big our image up, setting ourselves up for at least one unexpected glimpse of our worn out selves dragging us down into the confidence gutter, not to mention the dreaded selfie, which seems to require a very smart, smart phone and even smarter apps to convert that ‘just crawled out of bed look’, to sassy chick oozing gorgeousness.
When the portrait of me featured in this blog was presented to me, a few years ago now, I wasn’t sure how I felt about it. Actually, that’s a lie! My initial reaction was one of shock. Then I looked at it closely. The artist has captured my slight squint in my left eye, one of a pair which will always hold eye contact with you, my fixed smile is carefully immortalised, .. I think the wind must have changed one day and I stayed like that 🙂 My somewhat unruly sticky out hair, (hence the perpetual brushing of!) I have come to love that painting as it is me as I am, no frills, just me portrayed by a totally honest artist’s eye. I love it!
The mirror experiment has left me in no doubt at all that, in the western world, we, mostly unknowingly, harbour all sorts of funny little hang ups about our outward appearance, which left to instinct, rather than reflection, will change to accommodate our whims of fancy. How many times to you dress only to change your clothes when you check the mirror? Your self criticism pulling rank on your instinctive need to be at ease. However, when you do choose to dress with your instinct, rather than the mirror, you will dress to get that feel good factor, not that, ‘looks sleek’, factor. When you become more self aware and less mirror aware, your natural confidence comes shining through. You will laugh more, radiate and ooze charisma as your dynamic changes to be driven by instinct. Dare I say that you will also probably look younger without the Botox… Nothing looks younger and more wistful that a winning smile.
The big challenge was an enormous one, and I know that every one of my lovelies reading this will gasp in horror. I needed to shop for a new outfit for an event. I decided to shop online, as everywhere in town has wall to wall mirrors in the changing rooms.
I spotted a highly patterned Monsoon dress, that I would love to wear, but the style conflicted with my shape. With it’s fitted top and full skirt, it would emphasise my bust and hips a treat, making my ample back end, (no butt lift here!) look enormous! However, I ordered said dress and accessories. My package duly arrived and I instantly unpacked it, and tried it on. It felt great, fitted as if it had been made for me, and I felt fabulous. A friend present said I looked different in it. – My mojo was shining out as I twirled and generally fannied about in my dress? At the time of writing the first draft, I still had not looked in the mirror in during a ‘dress rehearsal’ session. I did subsequently wear it to my event and felt amazingly great in it, although it is was not an occasion dress as such, I felt that it was exactly my style, as are the bright orange platform wedges I wore with it.
The key to ourselves, is ourselves. We live in a world where we are conditioned by social media sites, targeted advertising, Sunday supplements, and coffee table magazines that loudly question our own unique style. So precious is this unique facet of ourselves, that we need to become more aware of media and marketing manipulation that would really like us to follow the trends that the retail giants create.
When I was a teenager, I had a sewing machine. It was in the era of Quant and Twiggy and the look of the day was still swinging between flower power and bold geometrics.
Battling with a meagre clothes budget of a big fat zero, to ensure that I would look reasonably, ‘in the moment’, I would make clothes and folk would beg me to tell them where I bought them. Of course making your own gear was frowned upon then, it was the dawning of aggressive labelling, and I would take the ‘right’ labels from my purchased clothes received on birthdays and at Christmas, and stitch them in to my unique, highly desirable, just stepped off the catwalk kinda togs, just so I wouldn’t be teased endlessly about wearing home made fashions.
I perhaps wish now that I had found the courage to be braver. Needless to say one of my all time female icons is Dame Vivienne Westwood. She stuck her neck out whereas I reeled mine in like a scared tortoise, afraid of displeasing my, often cruelly critical teenage peers. Did evoking fashion envy make a difference to how I felt about myself? Actually yes. I do recall feeling elated when I completed a new garment to wear. As these things have a habit of coming back to haunt you, so to speak, in recent years, I had occasion to share a train journey with an old school friend who confessed that she was so envious of my fashions and self assured style back then! I didn’t feel it necessary to share the truth of my wardrobe and/or my then critically low self esteem and confidence, even some fifty years later!
Of course, self confidence doesn’t begin and end with fashion. It is about inner contentment. I adored sitting at my sewing machine and felt that I had achieved the impossible, my pride in my work shone through when I wore my latest garb, which I could never have afforded to buy. An outer style emerged from within me, my little extrovert, a little showy, but not too much, proud but not smug, confidently happy with myself. It strikes me that in recent years, I admit to having lost touch with my little extrovert a tad, possibly convincing myself that I am too old, too fat, and have grown up children I have no wish to embarrass by stepping out as a sixty something born again Jean Shrimpton.
In my new ‘mirrorless’ day, I spend more time feeling blessed and beautiful, rather than looking into the mirror, anxious to check my hair and lippy. I have come to realise that shining out from me is the purer ‘me’ energy that is as natural as it was the day I hit the earth.
I have even started a fabric stash and purchased a new sewing machine, there is something deliciously organic about creating or wearing adornment for your inner goddess as practiced daily by the gorgeous Himba tribeswomen who giggled out from our screens, reminding us of the valuable lesson of respecting above all else, our individual uniqueness. Bring on the home grown mojo…..
The Zen Vibe 