Rupture 4 by Yazmin White and Hailey O'Gorman
Image by Hailey O’Gorman
dress my body dearly
by the burning oceanside
that the clothes i wear
are as vulnerable as you want them
that the fire will warm us
that my body will be shared
the world’s will, the world will
colour us senseless
that the spider’s webs tell me
you have taken me home.
my body is ash,
but you have carried me here
that we may stay a while,
that we may stay a while
Among the more likely options, there are a surprising number of dresses and skirts on my Pinterest feed. They started off as renaissance and then slowly switched to modern. They’re pretty, usually plain and modest and simple with the odd floral mixed in for good measure. Some have lace and frills and layers and belts, and best of all pockets.
They’re pretty and I like them and some part of me likes to imagine a distant future version of myself wearing one. She’s all thin and smiley.
In reality, I would never put one on. The only times I have worn a dress or skirt since I was probably about 12 were for my leavers proms in year 11 and 13.
The one in year 11 was pretty deep velvet blue. I chose it. It used to be my mums. I liked the way it fit and hung from me, how my stomach and hips and chest were smaller. I didn’t eat during the day until evening meals from years 9 until 11, so I was still skinny like my younger sister. Even then I tried to hide and cover my upper arms because I thought they were too big. Looking back, they weren’t.
The second dress was a surrender. I think it was some form of greyish purple. My mother got it for me because I couldn’t find one I thought I would look good in. It felt too tight in the wrong places and bulged when I was sitting down even with the spanx and corset on – which I had to take off during the meal because it made me feel sick.
One of the girls in my year wore a suit and I remember looking at her and being so incredibly jealous, and so angry at myself for putting on a dress in the first place when I could have looked like that. She was so effortlessly cool and I felt like the Michelin Man draped in nylon.
There’s a picture of me in it and I hate it. I can tell how uncomfortable I was in it and how it seems to highlight all the things I don’t like about myself. I suppose the dresses and skirts on my Pinterest are the same as the renaissance dresses before them – pretty costumes. Nice to look at but not so fun to wear.
In my head I think I’ve created this version of me that I used to want to be in dresses – all cute and sweet. But I’m not like that. I want to be a little bit bolder. I don’t have to be all nice and pretty. I can be attractive in my own way, with anger and sadness and edges and lumps and rolls and peace and suits and plaid shirts.
Edited by Hailey O’Gorman