The time, life and brain-space-saving power of a uniform
How to always have something to wear for who you want to be today
I don’t know what came first, the longing for a uniform or the body dysmorphia. I use the phrase advisedly since even now I’m not sure that it is dysmorphia and not just, y’know, actual fact. Like most women I know (not all! And, yes, some men too, but very much also not all…) I look in the mirror and rarely see the whole of me – still alive, relatively healthy, comparatively thriving when plenty of others I know are not. Instead, my eyes are drawn to the too-wide hips, the belly that hasn’t been flat since my appendix burst aged 13 and the surgery left me with an “apron” more appropriate to someone who’d had a Caesarian... I won’t go on. It’s boring and you get the picture, I’m sure. You’ve heard it before.
Either way, I’ve had a problematic relationship with the whole elaborate process of “getting …