Being the type of person with a general attitude somewhere along the lines of, "IDGAF," peer pressure isn't usually a problem for me. The only people I've ever really felt the desire to emulate are my brothers--and The Doctor, I guess, but that's outside the realm of possibility, I think. Nobody can be that awkward.
Tonight, though, I experienced peer pressure. We had a little freshman orientation event, a dance on a boat, and all the girls on my floor were getting dressed. I decided to wear a loose, comfortable dress. It's cotton, with a multicolored design and it belts just underneath my chest.
I thought it was cute, and also that 'cute' was enough. But then I saw the other girls on my floor getting dressed... in shorts, tight tops, body-con skirts, camisoles, etc. Everything was tucked in and on display and I felt... frumpy.
One of the girls offered to let me wear some of her clothes, and I said, "No, thanks." I was proud of my cute little dress, and my minimal make-up and my lazy hair. I thought I looked nice.
But then, as a few minutes ticked by and the girls fluttered around in the hallway, I started to get anxious. I wondered what everyone else would be wearing. I wondered what the other girls would look like. Before I even knew what was happening, my mouth was opening and I was saying, "You know, I might want to wear one of her skirts, after all..."
Things got a little out of control, then. Before I could say, "Gallifrey," I found myself in a body-con skirt and a top that showed off a little bit of my sides, a little bit of my back. I was standing in my room and someone was holding a mascara wand up to my face and saying, "Blink. Blink. Blink."
(I should have known then and there that this was going to be a disaster. Anybody worth their salt knows that the proper strategy is don't blink. Don't even blink.)
I'm not going to blame the girls on my floor for being enthusiastic about their little human Barbie experiment. They're girls; they like clothes and fashion and dressing up and everything. I like those things, too, just on a different scale. In a different style.
I was excited at first, about being pretty... about maybe even being sexy. When we were waiting to go to the boat I was taking pictures with everyone and laughing and smiling and showing off my outfit.
But then I got on the boat, and pretty promptly lost all the girls I'd arrived with.
It wasn't really anybody's fault; there were a lot of people on that boat, and the crush of bodies combined with the darkness made it pretty much impossible to keep track of someone without literally holding their hand.
When I lost the girls from my floor, I wandered off and found some of my Leadership friends, and then I started to feel uncomfortable. They were all dressed conservatively, cutely, in t-shirts and shorts and the occasional sundress. They were demure while I was brash. They were conservative while I felt like a bit of a side-show.
I spent most of the night in a circle of awkward kids who couldn't dance any better than I could, and I enjoyed their company. I enjoyed their company while the girls I'd come with danced in the crush of bodies, bumping and grinding and doing things with their hips that I could honestly never dream of doing.
There was an after-party, after the boat docked, but I came straight back to my dorm. I washed off the mascara that made my eyes look too fake and I took off the skirt that was so tight I had to keep my knees tightly together all night just to preserve my own modesty.
Now, laying here in a pair of shorts and one of my cousin's old muscle shirts, with my computer on my lap and some Jack Johnson playing, I feel more like myself than I did all night. I feel comfortable and at peace, if a little ashamed of myself for caving to the peer pressure in the first place.
I wish I hadn't. I wish I'd worn my cute dress and my real smile, not my fake one. I wish I'd been comfortable enough to go crazy with my friends like I did at Culture Night, but the outfit inhibited me. I wanted it in the first place to feel more comfortable, but in the end it made me retreat into my shell.
I guess you're never too old to cave to peer pressure; even though it was a bad experience, and even though I wish I could take it back, I feel like I learned something here. Maybe once I stop feeling like such a jackass I'll be able to absorb the lesson.
(Ten points to everyone who caught the Doctor Who references. They weren't very subtle.)
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