Some years ago, I was going to a seminar here in Denmark. I put one of my red dresses on. Looked at mirror and then took it off again. I looked great.
But I hesitated.
I knew I will get attention.
I was uncomfortable to stand out.
I was terrified to be judged.
By other women.
Men don’t judge (well, as long you aren’t politician of the opposition, I must add).
They adore women in dress.
(Well, they adore women in everything as long they (women) are glad (and not politician of the opposite party)).
Since I arrived to Denmark in 1996 I tried to fit in.
I came from Latvia, where women do make an effort to look like celebration when leaving home.
(Perhaps because the life itself wasn’t that glamorous).
Denmark was totally different.
I dropped my colorful dresses and started wearing black and jeans.
Not a biggest tragedy.
Jeans are cool. Black is safe. And slimming.
But it wasn’t me. Not, on most days anyway.
Dresses make me happy. They are more fun. They are glamourous. They are comfortable. They are flattering.
I feel wonderful in a dress.
And it’s a fact that if a woman feels good she does good.
And so one day I got fed up with fitting in.
I was done pleasing others and looking for approval.
Life is too short for it and it really doesn’t pay.
I decided I better enjoy my life and be me, Gita.
So, after a short inner dialog, I said to myself: to hell with it.
I will dress as I feel and will not worry about other’s opinion.
I showed up in the seminar in my favorite red dress.
