When I was younger I cringed at the thought of wearing makeup and heels and generally dressing “like a girl”. I spent my adolescence decked out in an androgynous mixture of oversized t-shirts and loose jeans, convinced that donning all that “girl stuff” and drawing attention to one’s body somehow sucked all of the intelligence, independence, and common sense out of a woman and left an insipid, guy-fawning dolt in her place.
But a few years ago I had something of a change of heart when I found myself questioning my perceptions of my own femininity: I concluded that I felt my most feminine when I am strong and filled with a confidence in my intelligence, a belief in my abilities, and a loving acceptance of the body that houses it all. And I discovered that I can feel just as strong wearing lipstick and a pencil skirt as I do walking around in my jeans and lace-up boots, and that these choices — my choices — need not detract from the very things that make me strong.
I’ve been thinking about this shift in my self-perception since arriving at the office this morning when a friend complimented my outfit and went on to say that I am such a girlie-girl. I had to grin. And I didn’t cringe.
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