Les Fruites

Here’s a few shots of my outfit for the last night Kanka & I spent in Barcelona. The night was memorable because:
1. The waiter thought we were a lesbian couple. (My friend has been in a relationship for over two years) He kept on giving Kanka the wine list and the desert menu asking if she was sure her girlfriend didn’t want anything I’m happy to report Kanka treated me like a real princess, and it was the best date I have been on in a while… if not probably the only one as well
2. My sunburn is unreal. I didn’t remember it being so bad but looking at these photos I really need help learning how to properly apply sun tan lotion.
3. I almost got chased out of the restaurant by a mob of angry family-friednly tourists and their pitchforks made of words. Apparently it just isn’t ok to wear what you want unless you’re open for verbal abuse.

I fell in love with this dress from Zara because of the way I felt when I wore it. However I was not, and Im not even ashamed to admit it to this day, a fan of the attached bandeau. I chopped it off because it made the dress too 2010 for me. So I wore the dress sans bra (obviously with nipple covers though, since they really are the braless babe’s best friend) however this caught the attention of the conservative German family sitting behind me and the judgemental spanish family in front of us. I’m used to getting looks and questions when people don’t agree with what I’m wearing, and I’m usually able to shrug it off. I mean I understand, I don’t always 100% like what other people wear, but I don’t make a big deal out of it. The funny thing is they obviously liked what they had put on, and I loved what I had on, so there really wasn’t much difference between our choices. However it got to the point were for five minutes both tables had all eyes turned on me in such an obvious way (and I could understand almost all of the derogatory references made about me in German) that I started to feel vulnerable and definitely uncomfortable. There is no worse feeling than that of listening to a group of people, never mind them also being a family, bond over hatred aimed at you. However much to my normal “can’t stand conflict” way of life, I left without reacting. Inside I felt like I could burst. My entire body was screaming “say something. This is not ok” but all I did was avoid eye contact. My heart sunk and already in near tears, I could still hear them discussing my attire even as I paid the bill and walked away. It didn’t make it any better that on the way out, there was another girl at the bar wearing the same dress…. with the bandeau.
On the way home the words began to sink in, I couldn’t believe I actually felt bad about what I was wearing. Not because I didn’t love the look, or because I felt uncomfortable going braless, but I suddenly felt self conscious and very upset. There’s only so much negativity you can take in until you start to believe their words. I really have had those words in the back of mind for almost a month now, replaying the dinner over and over again in my head. How I should have stood up for my self and my decisions. How when I left the restaurant to give the ignorant people some peace I had run into two Finnish girls (who obviously didn’t realise Spain is filled with Finnish people) calling me a whore amongst other things… I should have stood up for myself. I should have said something…anything really.
So here I am sitting and writing, trying to tell you I’m not sure if I even want to post these photos… To let more people weigh in their thoughts about my decisions? Judge me for loving underwear but not necessarily wearing it? about how I wasn’t “embarrassed” leaving the flat like this? The truth is no matter how fun our “couple” dinner had been, and how good I felt when I wore this dress, I let the negativity get to me. I let doubt get to me. Even worse… I started believing all the horrible things strangers had said about me. I think it hit me harder because it really resonated and found a home with the hurt and humiliation I have been all to familiar with since the sixth grade. It took me a while to place it because I wasn’t expecting the same amount of verbal abuse coming from strangers. When it comes from your life time cache of bullies, at least you know to expect it. Seeing two tourist families enjoy themselves at the expense of humiliating you via verbal abuse was the last thing I expected when travelling to Barcelona. Being bullied after graduating never crossed my mind as a possibility. I always figured once I was done with school the bullies would disappear but I guess bullies have to go places too after they graduate.
I really wish I had a happy ending to this story, that I could tell you I triumphed and I feel great about myself again and I don’t doubt leaving the house braless because I love doing that and no one can tell me otherwise etc.etc. But unfortunately I’m still sitting here finding reasons within my head to justify the rude and inconsiderate words of the judgmental people I unfortunately had to share my last night in Barcelona with. Sitting here letting myself believe that those strangers know me better than I know myself. That they not only had a right in calling me out so publicly, but that they WERE right in what they were saying.
In a way posting these photos is me reminding myself how much love I felt when wearing that dress. It is in a way me finally reacting to all of those who have hurt me, a big middle finger-like F U… And finally me posting these photos is in a way me asking you to think about your words and your actions against others, because you never know how deep it truly hits.