Adolescent Myopia

Who did you idolize as a teenager? Did you go crazy for the Beatles? Ga-ga over Duran Duran? In love with Justin Bieber? Did you think Elvis was the livin’ end?

Source: Teen Age Idol

It is excruciatingly hard to admit this, but the closest teenager-me have come to idolize someone was when I was so into this particular member of a K-pop girl group (whom I decided not to name), simply because I think the way she dresses is cool; basically it’s easy to pick her out from the crowd of monotonous cutesy acts and exterior, which is actually the main selling point of the other groups and idols in the industry.

Allow me a moment to cringe for the apparent tastelessness of my teen self and how much I was a loser as I was proud to think I have chosen the non-mainstream, while the word “BASIC” is written in capitals on my forehead. Ugh.

In my defense, I was considerably perceptive enough to see her as nothing but an image created by the company she was in. I mean, at least I wasn’t blinded with her persona on stage or on reality shows that I took them as her traits of personality and how she is in real life. But I still look forward to watching them as she would be there, rocking edgy hairstyles and clothing which I might not be able to pull off in real life. It was partly some sort of gratification through others, if I may.

The other half of the reason was that, as I guess any teenager would, I, too, experienced a certain level of consciousness about my own appearance by that time. I liked her because she projects the way I would like to dress myself, while previously I had never care even a teeny tiny shit on however other female idols or celebs style themselves. Of course, it didn’t go all too well as illustrated from my hair fail story. But to some extent, teenage me found comfort in her against all those peer pressure to look up to the seemingly only way for girls to be considered at least “dressing properly”.

I am so glad that phase is over. It was too exhausting; both self-debating too much about fitting in and feeling too required to achieve a certain look. Oh, and it’s also a little too much failing all attempts to lose weight because I thought that is the only way I can totally pull of her style.

Like some, my fascination eventually also faded out into indifference. Mostly because I reached that moment of epiphany saying, “Oh fuck it, you do you, I do me or whatever that shit is”. Honestly, I don’t remember exactly how or when I got to that point, but probably  because I had other trivial matters I’d rather attend to; basically me developing new interests that don’t necessarily involve thinking about how I look or anything too much to do with the issue of identity.

Perhaps I just turned to a full-fledged skepticist, especially on the question of individuality or humanity as a whole. Uniqueness suddenly appears overrated.


The Hair Fail Story

Describe your favorite fashions from days of yore or current trends you think are stylin’.

Source: New Sensation

Oh, fashion; the last thing on earth I would consider missing out in real life. Yet fetus me admittedly was not out of the radar of trends surrounding all the style-equals-identity teen phase normally everybody else have. Do give me a moment to cringe for what it’s worth.

Even then, I maintained my (failed) rebellious streak, which was limited to basically not wearing mainstream stuff every girls wear, such as the colour pink, any type of make-up, flowy dresses, mini-skirts and literally short, short and ripped denim pants. I said it was a failure basically because I just look like some kind of an emo prude, as contradictory as it may sound, with the lack of bright color, sneakers, baggy T-shirt and pants I was wearing all the time… without the Avril Lavigne signature tie on tank-top though I was so close to make it my thing. Praise be.

The lack of attention to my daily appearance may also stem out of the low self-esteem I had as a teenager because I was (and am still) pretty chubby and I had particularly terrible hair as part of the awkward phase (which does not necessarily mean I “swanned” from the “ugly duckling” stage; seriously though, even that is privilege).

Despite the whole confidence issue, one day, I decided to give myself an unlikely haircut. I had very frizzy, slightly damaged, uncontrollably wavy hair, and I used to hate it so much because I had no idea what to do with it but to just grow it out; which was also annoying because it was constantly hot and humid where I live back then. So, with the power of hair-straightening chemicals, I asked my hair-dresser to reconstruct my hair into an asymmetrical bob style.

Don’t get me wrong, I still think it is quite a cool hairstyle. I also should admit I was tempted to do it because a particular celebrity, whose image embarrassingly resonated to the then oh-so-feeble soul of mine, slaying it. The problem is that it originally works well only with sleek, straight hair. Fetus me reckon I could rock it after all the chemicals seeped in. Needless to say, I could not even bring myself to look at a photo of me back then with the hairdo. Actually, there was barely any, which means I did realize how awkward the unnaturally straight hair and edgy fringe as well as the supposedly sharp-look on myself.

So after this tragic experience with the hairstyle and all, mildly put I do not even bother to try anymore. I still kept the short do, but nothing adventurous. At least I managed to do alright with it, because it is so liberating to have short hair and I do not have even the slightest intention to trade it with anything else.

That, until I again put up the courage to do the undercut. Which. Was. Awesome. And for some reasons, it recently became quite popular among girls too, much to my dismay with all the “being unique” issue. Pfffttt.

I guess all of us have had those moments when we crazed over the evanescent, like hairstyle and clothing trends, that we totally forgot whether it would suit us as those who became icons of them do. Sometimes their personas outshine that little voice of rationality (sanity, to be precise), while some other time, it was just us overestimating our guts, leading to bad decisions. But when it comes to failures about such trivialities, it is not in any way nearing the end of the world as long as we learn from it. I mean, come on, it is normal to be fourteen or fifteen and have a bad haircut, or an underdeveloped taste of music, even fashion.

I hope that is enough to make me feel rest-assured that I am not the only typically awkward teenager around. At least now I am sorted in the hair department, despite being an awkward kidult.