Sorry for writing two posts right after each other, but it would be a bit too lengthy if I just decided to add this to my last one. I want to share some of the things people have said to me over the years.
Story number 1: When I was 13, I was learning as much as I could about beauty through the ages. This meant reading a lot of books about makeup application, and books about clothing styles from different eras - I particularly liked the 18th century dresses. I will tell you a bit about my sister, because it is relavent to fully understand what happened: my sister suffered severe burns on her body when she was 18. It scarred her mentally and psychically. She never did much to make herself look prettier.
Now, the actual story. I was in my room reading, when she came on a surprise-visit. Great! Hadn't seen her in some time. She quickly made her way to my room, where she saw the books I was reading. This made her go on a lenghty rant about how women are more than just objects, that being beautiful wouldn't get me any further in life, and that it is unhealthy to wear so much makeup. All this, in a high-pitched hysteric voice. I didn't know how to react! I was just sitting there, dumbfounded, taking her abuse, trying not to cry.
Story number 2 (I hope no one else has experienced this): This also took place when I was 13. I was visiting a therapist twice a week to help me recover after years of violence from my father. After some time, I started participating in group sessions to help with my anxiety. The other people were really nice, but this particular therapist was certainly not. A month or so before, my mother had completely butchered my hair, leaving me with bangs an inch long. I did my best to cover this up until I didn't look like an idiot anymore.
This particular day I was also wearing a red lipgloss and a bit of mascara, and my feeble attempt of masking my wrecked hair.
The therapist thought this meant that I had severe issues regarding the way I looked, and without even asking me, send me on my way to a mental hospital. Yeah, I know, it sounds crazy. The doctor I spoke with there (my sister was with me, and tried to tell him that she was afraid I might kill myself. Thanks, sis!) said that I sounded like a normal 13 year old girl, and that my mother and sister should just get me home so I could be well-rested for another day at school.
Family is so great.