All posts by Isabella

What is a fashionista?

 

Who are the fashionista’s of Australia? Log onto any well-known fashion forum and you will find the truth is not as simple as it would seem. On the surface, it would seem that the writers on the forum are up to the minute, fashion conscious beauty queens – vacuous airheads with nothing more on their minds than nail polish colour, how to keep foundation from sliding from their cheeks and of course, the main issues – what to wear to a party. With names like Princess, Beautyqueen and glamourzon, you could be forgiven for believing that these girls are 6-foot beauties of perfection. Paragons of beauty. Untouchable of class and elegance, with their lives a picture of perfection – the perfect hair and makeup, clothes to die for, new-European sleek vehicles and homes that could feature in the worlds leading interior decorating magazines.

 

Scratch the surface however, and what you find are the real individuals. Smart, intelligent women who display strengths of character shown by their beliefs in their own opinions and values, who provide a minute by minute support system to each other. Reality checks are constant within the chat forums with threads such as “Money Diary”, “Career Path and Goals” and “Living on a budget” – these forums tackle the issues of career progress, pathways, and salaries and how to save money whilst still looking like a fashion plate. And more importantly, looking as good as you can.

It’s not too bad.

Why, if there is nothing wrong, does Isabella feel like nothing is right?

Why does she have butterflies and a craving to run, hide and to get away from everything?

She’s only been back in the real, demanding world for a week or so.

Is she addicted to drama, dissatisfaction and adrenaline? When things are in control, that’s when she is likely to blow off steam, to run, scream and lose it.

Well that’s what it feels like to Isabella.

When it’s good it’s unbearable.

Searching, searching, searching…….

Always searching for someone, a friendly face, a recognised face. As soon as the doors closed behind me I feel both exposed and hidden. Walking up to the bar, I lean against the wooden ledge, careful to avoid the surface sticky with beer. I place my foot on the rail at my feet, leaning forward, relaxed and open.

I wait to catch the bartenders eye, smiling, watching their movements and assessing how long until I will be served. How many people are in front of me? What will they order? How slow with the barman be serving them. Will the punter fumble with their money, further delaying my turn with the barman.

Finally. Its my turn. I smile, share a quick hello and order my drink. I have my money ready, no delays here, no fumbling, lets get this moving along nicely. I don’t care how much, don’t need to know the details. I know what I want.

I make sure to smile again and say thank you once the deal is done, I have my wine – you never know when you will need him again, to serve you quickly and efficiently.

I turn from the bar and assess where to sit. I have already figured out a general area, however I want to make sure it’s the right place – I don’t want to move again.

I sit down, take my book our, arrange myself. Always keeping my head down and not making eye contact with anyone – this is my private time.

Finally I pick up my glass and take the first sip – it’s a challenge to make it look relaxed and not rushed, like I haven’t been waiting for this moment impatiently for a while.

From then on, I try to slowly savour the glass, knowing that I have a propensity to drink fast, with dedication and enjoyment and surely that would be obvious to others watching me.

I get up for my second – making sure I walk tall, steadily and with purpose. I position myself at the bar so that I can watch my bag – again impatient to be served. But I keep my manners and have a little joke with the same barman… it’s a conspiracy.

Again I keep my head down reading, not making eye contact with anyone, not wanting to be noticed.

After my 3rd, I loosen up a bit and look up from my book… look around at the bar, observing who is there, ensuring I don’t know anyone. I am getting bored with my book, reading is getting harder to concentrate on.

I start looking around, observing happy, laughing faces, wondering if I know them, do I know their lives, their thoughts at all?

What makes them so relaxed to be in such a place?

They have friends with them, all happy to be spending the afternoon in a pub on a sunny day, drinking beer, relaxing and having a fun time.

I want to be a part of that – I want to feel it’s ok to sit in a bar with a group of friends and have a couple of drinks and a good time. I want to relax with a group of people I like and admire, have some fun, then go home and have something to eat, go back to normalcy.

I want it to be ok to be out in the world having fun, a couple of drinks and know when to go home.

I don’t want to be scared of drinking too much, slurring my words or embarrassing people.

I don’t want to have to avoid those situations or be strict with myself beforehand. I know I can control my drinking when I am with friends – its only when I am alone, lonely that I am unable to.

This is a great article – too bad this isn’t me any longer

Hi All,

Worth while to read this blog and article – http://thecurrentconscience.com/blog/

This was me for about six months – the pressure to drink was amazingly strong – even from my partner!

I was constantly having to explain myself.

In the end it just got too hard.

Isabella
xxx

It’s been a difficult day.

Swan dive into the abyss of depression. 

Let go of the tenacious hold of sanity.

Release the strict structures around normality and dissolve into the warm comfort of neurosis.  

Free my soul from striving to be different, to be normal and in control. I want to collapse into oblivion, not have to hold up the heavy weight of responsibility. I want to stop living, I want the world to stop, just for a while, so my mind can be still and peaceful. 

I need to stop the constant invasion of my senses, protect myself from societies requirement to be presentable. It’s tiring. I’m tired. I can’t do this anymore. I can’t hold it up. 

I feel like my brain is going to snap. 

Should do this, should do that. Could do this could do that. Why haven’t you? Why didn’t you? Constantly judged, assessed, failing. 

My weaknesses are all to apparent.

I am a weak little girl who wants to run and hide from this adult world. I’m always frightened that the little girl will be exposed. That I will be discovered as the sham I am. I’m only pretending to be together – inside I’m crumbling.  

Crumbling, allying and always catching myself. 

All I want to do is sleep. Sleep and never wake up. 

I have no energy, no capacity to think of anything else, get excited or plan the future. 

There is little that excites me.  Little that I excite. 

I am a boring little bird. 

A little bird that wants to stay in her nest and never grow up or grow out.