Thursday, 5 January 2012

C'mon then . . . Smile

Bugger, I cant keep my eyes open.
Ok I finally gave up trying to post and turned my attention to the tv where the film Mamma Mia was starting. I've never seen it . . . If I've heard the phrase "It's a real feel good film" once then I've heard it a hundred times! I've been told by many people, including those who know me well and should know better . . . "Oh you'd love it. I know you don't watch films but you would love this". Well I didn't. It didn't make me feel good or happy.  . . And knowing that it was possibly making several million people happy at that moment with it's "feel good factor" just highlighted my oddness.
Believe me, I don't try to be different or not fit . . . In fact I spent far too many years trying to fit in. Eventually It became clear that it wasn't happening. Also I asked myself why would I want to force myself to become like so many people who quite frankly got on my nerves in a big way . . Surely I would end up getting on my own nerves and that wouldn't be good for my mental health. So I finally accepted that I wasn't gonna fit in. I would be a loner, a misfit, a weirdo and that was fine by me. Having got to this point I can now look back and laugh, cry and cringe about some of my attempts and mostly massive failures to fit in.
The earliest one I can remember was my first and almost last attempt at a fashion "fit in". I wasn't aware of "fashion" growing up. We wore hand-me-downs from the "church", had no access to any media, wore uniform in school and didn't talk much to anyone else in school because . . . well you know why.
However at the age of eleven I had reason to cut through a department store, noticed a "Miss Selfridge" section and immediately became obsessed by a pair of red dungarees . . . I know, well it was '74. Anyway I "knew" these were what I needed to "fit in" . . . O yes these would solve all my problems. Shit! they might even get me some friends. I didn't know how I would get them . .  But I knew I would.
It was not in my nature to want. It wasn't allowed. It had been drummed out of me.We could pray . . . and if it was God's will, then it would happen. O C'mon God, this has to be your will. I don't ever ask for anything. Ever. And you O lord of all people know how much I need these in my life . . . Don't you?
It was during the summer hols and I was at work with my Dad for the day. I'd cleared it with God, I just needed the money now. I mentioned them to Dad a few hundred times. He must've known they were special because I'd never asked for clothes before. Ever. He disappeared on "a delivery" in the afternoon. Thankyou God. I knew he had gone to buy them, I just couldn't understand why later that day at home he didn't have them with him. O well so great was my faith I didn't doubt it . . . I would wait. And sure enough later that evening a lady from our group of nutters that gathered at our house church walked down the drive with a "Miss Selfridges" bag . . . Maybe she'd picked them up? No. My Dad had picked them up and taken them to her to be "embellished". I pulled them out of the bag, falling upstairs to change into them, on they went, they felt great, fitted perfectly . . . I ran into the only room with a mirror to indulge in a rare, enjoyable but very short-lived moment of "vanity". Hold on . . . I don't recall a big yellow "smiley face" sewn on the front bib. O well smiley faces were "cool" at the time. It said "Smile" above the face and . . . O No . . . even though the words below the face were backwards in the reflection I could make them out all too well.  "Jesus loves you".  . . O God. Well what could I say? . . . I had prayed for them. I couldn't deny the fact he loved me. I just didn't want everyone else knowing. It appeared I wanted the whole world to know. Freak. I was not smiling. These dungarees were the answer to my prayers . . . and were supposed to make me "fit in".
This was maybe the first and last time that I prayed for "wordly goods" ;-) Lesson learnt. Unfortunately it wasn't the last time that I tried and failed big time to fit in.


  1. I hate Mamma Mia.

    And damn!

    P.S. I don't fit in either. I'm no black sheep. I'm neon lime green with purple polka dots. I don't baaa... I quack. So there.

  2. Parents can be so unintentionally cruel. I often wonder what tortures I put my kids through.

  3. I don't do films either. I read, but I don't do films. And yes, this makes me a bit of an oddball. Tough.
    And I am cringing deep in my intestines at the 'Jesus Loves Me' embellishment.

  4. Have Myelin?
    YAY! . . YAY! . . . and thrice YAY! I like the sound of you.

    Yes I've probably done the same to mine just in a different way.
    I love your last post . . . I'm coming back to re-read in a minute as it was 3am when I read it.

    The Elephant's Child,
    I'm beginning to wonder if it's "blogging" that attracts oddballs like us . . . Or if very few people really feel like they "fit in".

  5. trust me Penis Brosnans singing doens't make anyone "feel good"... feel sick yes

    Never pray for you to get something... normally there is a nasty twist if you do - this is a great story about that I must remember as an example

  6. Oh, I"ve missed your blog! I hadn't realized its been so long since I've been over here. I loved this story, even though it was sad there was a bit of humor to it. As for fitting in - I'm so glad you are YOU. Oh, and I tried to watch that movie but hated it and turned it off halfway through. I can't stand anything romantic or silly and it was both (or trying to be I guess....) I like dark, twisted psychological thrillers but am not interested in the Girl with the Dragon Tattoo at all (not sure why)

  7. Furtheron,
    O that's who it was . . I knew I'd seen him somewhere before. I recognised a lot of faces . . but what a load of tripe.

    Hi I'm glad you enjoyed it. It's a good job most things are funny years later.
    I keep hearing that title about The girl with the Dragon Tattoo . . . I presume it's a new film, whether there's anything "new" about it remains to be seen. I'm a bit of a cynic when it comes to films. It's good you've had chance to catch up on some blogs (at work ;-) Take care.

  8. Hey Bugerlugs, Thanks for stopping by. I used to have very long hair, but cut it to a shorter length years ago.

    I get what you wrote here. I don't think that I have ever felt like I fit in--I remember realizing that full on in second grade. I still have a bit of that feeling but mostly I accept who I am now and fit in with the few members of the "tribe" that are my closest friends. Trying to fit in with a mass of people is impossible.

  9. Oh, dear Lord! (no pun intended!) You poor thing. I can sort of relate. My mother used to spend oodles of $$$ on what she thought were the most fashion forward outfits for me. Plaid and leopard prints, which no one else appreciated - including me! I just wanted some normal jeans and sweatshirts so I could actually fit in with the other kids I went to school with. She had other ideas. Oh, the memories. I don't even want to recall them! I really love your blog. Thank you for following mine too. I've always felt like I don't fit in anywhere and I only just finally stopped trying. It's nice to grow up and just be yourself, eh. Here's to that! I will definetely be back to keep up with your space here. I like the honest blogs best. The happy, shiny, perfects can be inspiring but that's just not my world. Happy New Year to you and hope 2012 is a good one.

    ~ jenn :)

  10. Syd,
    That's ok . . I've been reading your blog for almost a year. It's one of the first few I noticed over at Gledwood's. Your comments there show you care about him.
    I used to live on a boat, although it was only on the canal, I can relate to the peace you feel on the water. Sunrise was the best in every season on the water.
    I almost fitted in with the canal folk . . . but not quite ;-)

  11. Jenn June,
    I'm beginning to think this "fitting-in" is a myth as I've not heard anyone say they do fit in yet . . . I will make it my mission to find a fitter-inner ;-)
    I didn't notice your mistake today . . . I went back and looked. I started getting a tad obsessed about finding it or, presuming you'd fixed it, guessing what it could've been . . . until I said "Ok that's enough". I've banned myself from going back there . . . only until you post again of course.

  12. My mom used to sew us the same exact dresses when I was in grade school - soooo embarrassing!!! What was she thinking?? I'm sorry you went through that!

  13. L,
    Yes me too . . I found a photo the other day of me and Sis in matching dresses. I must get my scanner out for some laughs. At least we can laugh years later ;-)