Part 6 - Insert profound title here
Note: Part 5 got overwritten... by this post. Completely by accident. I'll rewrite it at some point, but oof. I was not thinking... Anyway.
Let's jump back to part 1 for a moment. Not the whole post, just the part where I said it took thirty-eight years to feel comfortable in my own skin.
I remember that day like it was yesterday... even though it was like three weeks ago now: M and I had traveled up to north of the bridge to retrieve Bx from under her desk; we got some KFC and sat on the beach and argued the ethics of feeding magpies chicken and whether it constituted some kind of cannibalism; and we listened to stories from Bx' grandfather and some pretty dreadful jokes. Then we packed a picnic dinner of assorted cheeses, leftover KFC, and some other swanky things and made our way down to a park by the river.
Now, there are things that really kill me when travelling to new places, and it's the stupid things I take notice of that next to nobody else would pay a second thought to. This place? It was the public toilets. Anywhere south of the bridge, I have this expectation that public toilets are going to be a disaster; like that one time I had a dream about going to a pub in Sydney and someone had pissed all over the toilet paper in the stalls. Then going to said pub that weekend and actually encountering this exact situation.
What absolutely threw me off about the public facilities north of the bridge were how utterly putrid they were. On the surface it's all expensive cars and multi-million dollar houses, places they film Home & Away, and have high tech car parks for a by-the-lake picnic spot. Lurking beneath that squeaky clean exterior though? Savages. Shit and toilet paper EVERYWHERE! My only other thought was that people from south of the bridge came here to intentionally do this to their public toilets to show their disdain for Sydney's elite. I mean, as far as protest tactics go... you're gonna make a point. Unfortunately, the poor schmuck that has to deal with it likely comes from south of the bridge, and that's just short-sighted and cruel.
ANYWAY!
Why do I find myself so easily distracted?
After detailing my experience in the public toilets where my expectations of polished marble urinals with diamond encrusted junk traps were shattered by a rendition of Blue Poles in 50 shades of brown. You know those memes of animals with tormented looks on their faces cut with scenes from Vietnam war movies to make it look like they were having traumatic flashbacks? That was me describing the situation.
We talked Bx in to coming back to M's place because we'd scheduled this particular evening for finally putting me in a dress and make-up to see how Sarah translates from an abstract into something real. I was anxious for a bunch of reasons, most of them perfectly rational, and so we began the trek back south of the bridge to a place not far from the Macaroni Club.
If I was going to say that this whole thing wasn't daunting to some degree, I would be telling a lie. For so long I hated how I looked and how what I saw in the mirror was not the reflection of who I was, and tonight I was going to see Sarah 1.0. They made me a gin and tonic, because what else are you going to drink in a situation like this? I explained that Sarah was always going to be a goth, so that had to come out in her make-up, she always had red hair... and that's how we started.
It was emotional, but I didn't let it out, because that would just ruin all the work these two wonders had just put in along with walking me through the process of what does what and why (Sailor J is right, contouring is basically witchcraft). From there it was on to find the right wig. I had insisted on auburn to start with, subconsciously I think I was trying to sabotage myself because that wasn't the colour the night ended with.
Undergarments were the next step. Yep, I discovered a waist trainer and having to breathe every last bit of air out of your lungs to get that puppy done up, how to put on stockings, and the joys of nearly falling off the edge of a bed that is way too high for such a short person. But the thing that surprised me most was that there was no guilt, no taboo, nothing sitting at the back of my head going "you're so going to Hell for this". It felt completely natural, and more importantly, I felt more myself than I had in a long time.
Next was the dress. Between the choice of leopard print or a classy red velvet thing? it wasn't even a question that needed asking. The leopard print is just so beyond who I am and what I had pictured Sarah wearing. I put the dress on, shuffled and shifted until it fit properly, thankful that you can flatten bits and pieces so it doesn't look like you're smuggling fruit in places that would be unhygienic to eat it later.
M and Bx both had snuck around the corner to see if I was finished and both of them said wow, I wasn't convinced. Sometimes you just feel like people are saying things to make you feel better or out of some kind of pity? Self-confidence issues. They are a bitch. They were convinced though that the auburn was definitely not my colour, and we agreed to try the red. It was basically the deciding factor on whether this whole thing worked or not. Soooooo, we went back to the dining room, I sat down while M fitted the wig and made it just so.
They led me to the bathroom mirror with my eyes closed, and when I opened them, I hesitated. It was something I was almost too scared to do. I'd imagined this since I was little, I wanted to be this person, I wanted so much just to be this person. When I opened my eyes and saw myself? I believe I said "my God, I look so pretty!".
Right? from zero to vain in .05 of a second.
But I saw her... more than that, I saw myself, and I felt amazing.
Here was this woman who had only existed in dreams, in memory, in artwork, in writing... I'd finally felt comfortable enough to take photos of myself that I didn't feel awkward in, or wasn't doing something stupid in, and over the course of the last few weeks she's been steadily coming through. She needed something else though, it was the Alice, and a couple of friends said I deserved to be a little bit extra... so I hyphenated.
I don't know how to close this off at the moment, but a quote from Ghost in the Shell came to mind. At the end of Mamoru Oshii's Ghost in the Shell, Motoko considers what to do now that she's gone through a significant change that altered not just the way she viewed the world, but the way in which she interacted with it:
"... and where does the newborn go from here?
The net is vast and infinite."
Pleased to meet you, reader.
I'm Sarah-Alice.
P.S: M and Bx, you're the heroes of this story ;)
Let's jump back to part 1 for a moment. Not the whole post, just the part where I said it took thirty-eight years to feel comfortable in my own skin.
I remember that day like it was yesterday... even though it was like three weeks ago now: M and I had traveled up to north of the bridge to retrieve Bx from under her desk; we got some KFC and sat on the beach and argued the ethics of feeding magpies chicken and whether it constituted some kind of cannibalism; and we listened to stories from Bx' grandfather and some pretty dreadful jokes. Then we packed a picnic dinner of assorted cheeses, leftover KFC, and some other swanky things and made our way down to a park by the river.
Now, there are things that really kill me when travelling to new places, and it's the stupid things I take notice of that next to nobody else would pay a second thought to. This place? It was the public toilets. Anywhere south of the bridge, I have this expectation that public toilets are going to be a disaster; like that one time I had a dream about going to a pub in Sydney and someone had pissed all over the toilet paper in the stalls. Then going to said pub that weekend and actually encountering this exact situation.
What absolutely threw me off about the public facilities north of the bridge were how utterly putrid they were. On the surface it's all expensive cars and multi-million dollar houses, places they film Home & Away, and have high tech car parks for a by-the-lake picnic spot. Lurking beneath that squeaky clean exterior though? Savages. Shit and toilet paper EVERYWHERE! My only other thought was that people from south of the bridge came here to intentionally do this to their public toilets to show their disdain for Sydney's elite. I mean, as far as protest tactics go... you're gonna make a point. Unfortunately, the poor schmuck that has to deal with it likely comes from south of the bridge, and that's just short-sighted and cruel.
ANYWAY!
Why do I find myself so easily distracted?
After detailing my experience in the public toilets where my expectations of polished marble urinals with diamond encrusted junk traps were shattered by a rendition of Blue Poles in 50 shades of brown. You know those memes of animals with tormented looks on their faces cut with scenes from Vietnam war movies to make it look like they were having traumatic flashbacks? That was me describing the situation.
We talked Bx in to coming back to M's place because we'd scheduled this particular evening for finally putting me in a dress and make-up to see how Sarah translates from an abstract into something real. I was anxious for a bunch of reasons, most of them perfectly rational, and so we began the trek back south of the bridge to a place not far from the Macaroni Club.
If I was going to say that this whole thing wasn't daunting to some degree, I would be telling a lie. For so long I hated how I looked and how what I saw in the mirror was not the reflection of who I was, and tonight I was going to see Sarah 1.0. They made me a gin and tonic, because what else are you going to drink in a situation like this? I explained that Sarah was always going to be a goth, so that had to come out in her make-up, she always had red hair... and that's how we started.
It was emotional, but I didn't let it out, because that would just ruin all the work these two wonders had just put in along with walking me through the process of what does what and why (Sailor J is right, contouring is basically witchcraft). From there it was on to find the right wig. I had insisted on auburn to start with, subconsciously I think I was trying to sabotage myself because that wasn't the colour the night ended with.
Undergarments were the next step. Yep, I discovered a waist trainer and having to breathe every last bit of air out of your lungs to get that puppy done up, how to put on stockings, and the joys of nearly falling off the edge of a bed that is way too high for such a short person. But the thing that surprised me most was that there was no guilt, no taboo, nothing sitting at the back of my head going "you're so going to Hell for this". It felt completely natural, and more importantly, I felt more myself than I had in a long time.
Next was the dress. Between the choice of leopard print or a classy red velvet thing? it wasn't even a question that needed asking. The leopard print is just so beyond who I am and what I had pictured Sarah wearing. I put the dress on, shuffled and shifted until it fit properly, thankful that you can flatten bits and pieces so it doesn't look like you're smuggling fruit in places that would be unhygienic to eat it later.
M and Bx both had snuck around the corner to see if I was finished and both of them said wow, I wasn't convinced. Sometimes you just feel like people are saying things to make you feel better or out of some kind of pity? Self-confidence issues. They are a bitch. They were convinced though that the auburn was definitely not my colour, and we agreed to try the red. It was basically the deciding factor on whether this whole thing worked or not. Soooooo, we went back to the dining room, I sat down while M fitted the wig and made it just so.
They led me to the bathroom mirror with my eyes closed, and when I opened them, I hesitated. It was something I was almost too scared to do. I'd imagined this since I was little, I wanted to be this person, I wanted so much just to be this person. When I opened my eyes and saw myself? I believe I said "my God, I look so pretty!".
Right? from zero to vain in .05 of a second.
But I saw her... more than that, I saw myself, and I felt amazing.
Here was this woman who had only existed in dreams, in memory, in artwork, in writing... I'd finally felt comfortable enough to take photos of myself that I didn't feel awkward in, or wasn't doing something stupid in, and over the course of the last few weeks she's been steadily coming through. She needed something else though, it was the Alice, and a couple of friends said I deserved to be a little bit extra... so I hyphenated.
I don't know how to close this off at the moment, but a quote from Ghost in the Shell came to mind. At the end of Mamoru Oshii's Ghost in the Shell, Motoko considers what to do now that she's gone through a significant change that altered not just the way she viewed the world, but the way in which she interacted with it:
"... and where does the newborn go from here?
The net is vast and infinite."
Pleased to meet you, reader.
I'm Sarah-Alice.
P.S: M and Bx, you're the heroes of this story ;)
Where's parts 3 and 4?
ReplyDeleteI should probably make a facebook post where they are readable in order. This site is actually pretty rubbish at handling sequential posts :(
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