Last weekend we went to Crocker Park. For those that don't know what Crocker Park is, think upscale-ish, outdoor shopping mall, with decent restaurants, in a nice area. We like to go there every so often. It's a small change of pace for us.
Being winter, I was quite bundled up. Being me, I was wearing brighter colors. To put it in perspective....I had my longer green wool coat on, my orange purse, multi-colored scarf, and a multicolored handmade hat from my grandma (that I love!) I didn't think much of my outfit. I liked it, it was "me," whatever.
But, no surprise, others didn't dig my style. Here's the story.......we're at Crocker Park, David and I separate from each other to shop, I see him a bit later, and try to catch up to him with a slight jog. In the process I pass two high school age boys. They bust out laughing and start making rude comments basically on the lines of my brightness and color coordination. What?! This is the shit I dealt with all through my school days. Are we still in high school? Oh wait! Yes, they still are in high school school. It took a lot in my to not stop and say something. But wanting to meet up with David I passed on the opportunity.
However, if I could/would have said something I would have said, "You can walk your little hoity toity punk ass selves into your cookie cutter Abercrombie where YOU don't choose what to wear....They do. Go ahead. Don't be an individual. Just be a number, like everyone else."
How I'm perceived by others, whether it's through my fashion, or anything else, is a constant mental battle I've had my entire life. It can tear down your self esteem. I remember vividly walking home in the 5th grade being made fun of by a 4th and 2nd grader for wearing a beret. They were younger than me but I was crushed. Later in junior high, although I was part of the "in" crowd, someone from the "in" crowd called me weird. I still had my circle of friends, but I can say that was the point where my alienation from the "in" crowd began. Not only was I hurt, but I found that I didn't need them. It's not that I strive to be different than others. I'm just "me" and it just happens, more times than not, that I'm different than those around me.
You know what? I don't have much fashion sense. However, I do know that I have always been, and will always be my own personal self. No one will take that away from me.
As for those high school kids at Crocker Park. All I'll say is, "Karma's a bitch."
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4 comments:
Well, I like your style, and I can also relate to your story... I've been in those shoes most of my life. I've been called many names because of my dress and personal style, especially when I was growing up. But being different gives a person strength; an ability to weather storms. And you know... We're genuine, authentic people and everyone knows it! ;-) These days I understand that when people put me down it's because I've made them uncomfortable with themselves in some way.
Heidi, PLEASE DO NOT CHANGE! I for one love you as you are. Refreshing to find a person who, as your Mother puts it, Marches to the sound of a different drummer. You are a breath of fresh air that lingers in the crevices of the hearts of those who have the privilege to know you, like a smile. What has happened to kindness, concideration, respect? Do people not recall the Golden Rule? It is your individualism that makes you Heidi Roth, Henry. The Heidi we all love. So put on you glad rags and dance to the sound of the music in your mind.
Smile and twirl life is too short not to. Love, Aunt Tonya
Be yourself. No one can ever tell you you're doing it wrong."
~James Leo Herlihy
You pretty much rock, girl. So glad I'm getting to know you. ;-)
Bug,
We love you for who you are and how you are real to yourself. Isn't that what Shakespere said?
"This above all: to thine own self be true.", from Hamlet.
At the end of the day, you have to answer to God and youself. The Boy fell head over heels for you because of your unique energy. You stayed true to your own mores, even if it was different from the "in" crowd as it's called.
Rude kids...UGH. Shame on the parents.
I love you,
Sita
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