This is homework??
I received an assignment for my fashion journalism class to “write a short piece on an article of your clothing or body part and explain why you like or dislike it.”
“Seriously?” I thought to myself. ”Fine.” I continue now to brainstorm ideas of what I could possibly write about without psychologically mind-screwing myself too much (which I have a tendency to do.)
So, my automatic response was to think of something I disliked. When I realized how almost self-loathing that seemed, I made a conscious attempt to think of something positive. There must be something, right? Probably, but I don’t have the time to sit here and debate what it could be in my head.
Dislike. Clothes? That’s tricky, because I actually get to pick those. I don’t get to pick what my body parts look like for the most part. Therefore it says less about my character and tastes if I admit to disliking a part of my body rather than a part of my wardrobe.
Dislike. Body parts? Ankles/legs. That was simple. I am a pale girl. Sure, I probably tan if I could force myself to bake in the sun or harmful rays of a tanning bed, but I wish not to. After years of “Casper” and ghastly ghost puns, I have become quite acclimated to my “porcelain” (with a hue of blue) skintone. My veins are apparent everywhere you look, unless they lay shadowed by my carmel-colored freckles.
My blinding skin has kept me in pants, namely jeans, year round. Yes, even when it is 100 degrees out… Kate Spethmann will have on a pair of jeans. Every now and then, when summer hits, I will roll up the hem of my jeans just enough to let my ankles breathe. I prefer not to, but I will. Maybe it’s just my perception from looking down on them from all the way up here in the troposphere in which my head lives, but I see chunky ankles. Disproportionate to the “norm.” I’ve heard them called “Cankles” because your calf and ankle seem to be one entity. Perhaps they aren’t that bad, but I still hide them at all costs.
Over the years I’ve tried to create an illusion of separation between enormous foot, enormous ankle, and enormous calf in many ways. Ankle bracelets, drawing attention downward with a toe ring and brightly colored toenails…I even have placed a tattoo on the inner wall of my left ankle. It was not specifically inked into me so as to make my ankles look smaller, mind you. It was a meaningful piece of art I designed that was going to become part of my body in some place or another and I decided to let it keep my ankle company.
In conclusion, I would agree to a skin shade darker on my legs. Translucent just doesn’t scream “sexy summer legs” to me. It would also be amazingly entertaining to have three separate entities below my knees: calf, ankle and foot. Until they discover how to do seamless “leg transplants,” I guess I’ll continue to cope with being stuck with the ones I’ve got.
hmm, there it is. Homework: complete.
