Tonight, me and the magical dress I borrowed from my beautiful friend made our way to the three main parties one will come across in their college career: the cocktail soiree, the dinner celebration, and the apartment shindig. Of course, since it is my life, the cocktail party was strange, the dinner party was bittersweet and also strange, and the apartment party was just..beery. And this beautiful dress, that makes me feel like a movie star from long ago, was with me for the whole ride.
Dinners and apartments are a part of college on a weekly basis-nothing to even blink at. The cocktail party was something else entirely, however. A rented suite in the Ritz Carlton, formal attire required? Am I 20 or 45? Or maybe....14 all over again. I grew up in a wealthy family, with "functions" such as weddings, dinners, and baptisms all requiring a new dress and the squelching of individual thought. Formality was the term, in every single sense of the word. You see, at these social events, you must expect to be judged like a championship race horse in all matters-grooming, dress, family status, behavior, education...elitism to its very essence, thriving in its true home. There is an "expectation" of presence, "expectation" of appearance, "expectation" of behavior...though these events only comprised part of my childhood, it's no wonder that my oddball core was so inherently ready to rebel against them. To be completely honest, being well to do isn't all its cracked up to be sometimes. I am so grateful for every blessing I have gotten, but the shallow and emotionless socialization that has gone with it had always left me searching for more. It doesn't help one bit that I am someone who craves deep connections and lasting, genuine relationships; working only upon the surface is not just against my style, it makes me want to run screaming in the opposite direction until I find someone real to curl up into.
So that's what I grew up around, at least sometimes. I never relished the exposure to the events, though I recognize the valuable lessons I learned through the years about impeccable manners, being an excellent host, and the idea that manners aren't just being polite, they are putting others above yourself and not even letting them notice that they are coming first in your priorities. It was a different way to grow up than most kids, one that makes you grow faster and mature faster in a lot of ways. The sense of entitlement...well, that's up to you. I left that behind, thankfully enough.
The judgment, with strong undercurrents of a readiness towards distaste, was always the hardest thing for me to bear. I have always been an awkward child, battling weight problems and early onset acne. That overweight little Sarah still lives within me today, and...well...she came out a bit at this cocktail party tonight. It was small, maybe 20 people, and entirely too nice for some college kids. It was intimate in a way that I have not been exposed to for years, and the combination of memories long stored and sleep deprivation gave my psyche discomfort that I did not handle to the best of my ability. I pride myself in that I can handle some very tricky social situations with grace (the easy ones, not so much), and tonight...I fell short. I said "classy" entirely too many times, and I did not mingle with the greatest of ease. I let my wonderings about the boy I am smitten with overtake my ability to focus on light conversation and being the bubbly girl I usually am. I would not have made Miss Manners proud, except for the fact that I looked perfect (and more appropriate than any other girl there), and that my exit was more graceful than the Russian ballet. 12 year old Sarah was overwrought with anxiety, and 20 year old Sarah was not ready to deal her a new hand.
I was split, and I was unaware. Such intense confusion, such discombobulation, was out of the ordinary for me-I am typically quite comfortable in my own skin, and I always know who I am. This blindsighted me, and threw my night completely off. In every other way, this should have been a perfect night, but I feel like I threw myself through a complex social loop, completely my fault.
And... it makes me want to cry. Because I don't know where to put myself at all. At. All. And it's ridiculous because I have totally done this to myself but I am just so tired of being a mess! I am happy, happier than I have ever been, but I am also still confused as to where I "fit" (read:nowhere)
One place where I fit? In this dress. This beautiful, perfect dress that fits like it was made for me. It makes me feel like magic, and it has transformed me into a 1940s movie star for one evening. This dress has been through all of my turmoil with me tonight-applause, dress, applause. With all the catcalls and the flirting and the once-overs of the past couple of weeks, I have rebelled against it all and finally become confident in my own beauty, one that stems completely from the inside. I feel most beautiful without a mirror. I feel most beautiful when I am me-and I am going to be me once I shake this formality. And I will bounce back, thank you muchly.
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