The Positivity Conductor

Imagine you are on a bus on a warm summer’s day. Let’s make it one of those bright red London buses and you’re sitting on the bottom level.

You’re surrounded by all kinds of people. Some are wearing clothes, some are naked and some are in-between.

And then there’s you.

Every time you have a negative thought, you put on a piece of clothing. Soon, as your negative thoughts build, you are almost covered in clothes. You have scarves and hats and coats up to the yin yang and still you go on.

‘I’m not good enough.’

‘I can’t do that.’

‘People will think I’m arrogant and up myself.’

‘She didn’t like the way I did that so I should apologise…even though I didn’t do anything wrong.’

‘He didn’t like what I said so I should keep quiet in the future.’

‘I never get anything right.’

By this stage, you can barely see the other passengers because you’re being consumed by clothing. Your negative thoughts are slowly suffocating you.

Through a gap in your wooly scarf, you see the bus conductor approaching. He’s wearing what you’d describe as a normal amount of clothing.

He stops nearby and asks for your ticket. But all you can do is shrug – well it looks more like a mountain of fabric shuddering.

The conductor reaches for his machine, prints you a ticket and places it in your gloved hand. On the ticket are the words,  ‘You are perfect as you are. Just do your best and know that is enough.’

The reverse side says, ‘Others will judge you harshly because that’s how they judge themselves. Only you can make you feel good about you.’

The conductor smiles and continues up the aisle past you.

As you read the words on the ticket, you realise they are true and the most amazing thing starts to happen.

All those clothes you’re wearing start to shift. Scarves are unwinding themselves and those ten hats start flying off in all directions. Some land on the heads of other people. Some just land on empty seats, waiting for the next passenger.

The 12 coats you’re wearing split at the seams.

Soon you are sitting in a summer dress and sandals and you can breathe again.

You get up, walk down the aisle and make your way upstairs to the top level of the bus. There are a few other people up there too. They’re laughing, chilling out, reading books and relaxing.

They all look happy and they are all wearing the normal amount of clothes for a summer’s day.

You sit down, smile to yourself, look out at the passing scenery and think, I should have done this years ago.

Illustration courtesy of Munster Design & Print

It’s time to stop the comparisons

fever-feather-burlesque-costume-20122-a-aI’ve always been a big fan of burlesque because of its naughtiness and humour. It pushes boundaries and makes us see our world through a distorted kaleidoscope of colour, music, feathers and flesh.

It can also occasionally make people feel uncomfortable.

During the intermission of a recent show, I found myself talking to the woman next to me (Kate*) about one of the performers (Coco*).

Coco’s talent was a magic trick involving the removal of all her clothes.

Our conversation went as follows.

“I think it was okay that she took off her clothes because she doesn’t have the type of body that will intimidate any other women here or make them feel uncomfortable,” Kate said.

“But I bet we won’t see any of the male performers take it all off. I think that’s a bit of double standard,” I said. (The words “Are you serious?” were also dancing through my head.)

“Oh, I don’t think anyone wants to see that. Women like a bit more mystery.”

“Someone should tell that to all the men out there who send c!!k shots these days as a form of flirtation,” I said.

Kate looked shocked, stumbled over a few polite comments and the conversation moved towards more general topics as her friend returned to the table.

Now, I admit my last comment was probably a little calculated to shock Kate. But I found her comments quite disturbing. Did she really believe that a woman should only take her clothes off if her body was less than perfect and therefore wouldn’t make other women feel bad about themselves?

Unfortunately, I realise many other women might have the same thoughts as Kate. So many of our sex have perfected the art of comparing themselves to others and pulling them, and ourselves, down in the process.

I find this habit quite depressing.

Surely we can move past this type of behaviour? If you can get over the issue of nudity in performance (which I find acceptable but I realise makes some people uncomfortable), the real issue is how women perceive and treat themselves.

Human bodies are glorious contraptions with each one full of unique bumps and imperfections. And people are attracted to all kinds of variations of the human form.

So why, even now in this enlightened age, can’t women accept and rejoice in our imperfections?

Why can’t we look at an attractive woman and simply acknowledge her beauty rather than comparing ourselves to her?

I realise none of these questions are particularly new. After all, there are so many stories out there of even young girls, many who haven’t reached their teens yet, who are already obsessing about their perceived physical flaws.

I’d love us to change this mindset.

If only every mother could look at her own body and love it because of its flaws.

If only every daughter could see that her Mum loves herself, just as she is.

If only every girl could be encouraged to feel joyful when she looks in the mirror and sees every beautiful part of herself.

If only every woman could look at a naked female performer and appreciate her unique beauty.

If only every woman could stop tearing herself, and other women to pieces.

Imagine the wonderful world we could create.

* All names have been changed.