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Day Three Hundred and Twelve: Bowie Confidence in a Double Bowie Body,

Quite literally.

Walking around the Bowie exhibit I found myself crying a lot.  Not just because it was all so overwhelmingly wonderful, but because I quite literally feel like I fit right there.  Fawning over Bowie is the most I ever feel like I fit in, his music makes the world make sense to me (how bizarre is that?) and just his persona, his masks, it reminds me of me, reminds me of my confidence, of my personality of me.  It hurts me so much to identify so much with someone who was in his prime over thirty years ago.  People say it all the time, but I can feel it in my bones:  I was meant to be born in 1954, where I could’ve been at a similar age to Bowie in his prime, actually witnessed my favourite bands live, my favourite movements, my favourite fashions, films, my favourite moments.  I guess it’s up to me to remain in that mindset here in 2013.

What I really wanted to talk about today was my insecurities.  That’s a hard topic to relate to Bowie, but for me it’s more of a…. confidence, thing.  I’m a pretty confident person (mostly, or so it seems) but I really do just go with what I’ve got.  The thing about identifying with Bowie’s stage confidence is that he did get nervous but he did it anyway.  There was this photograph of him yesterday that was in real size of him in black skinny jeans and a white dress shirt around the mid nineteen-eighties and I realised how skinny he was.  Imagine, being confident and skinny, it’s like my heaven.  Not to mention skinny, confident and Bowie.  Imagine.

So the thing with confidence, and that whole bit of self-esteem is that I am confident regardless of what I look like.  I walk out in the morning in whatever I decided to put on, no makeup, my hair could look like anything my body looks like whatever, and I am confident because on the inside (cheese warning) I feel fabulous.  That’s what matters, right?  What you think of yourself?  You know what’s fascinating?  It actually doesn’t matter what you think about me, you the reader, because I think I’m fabulous.

And that isn’t conceited or self-indulgant, it’s confidence.  It’s positivity.  It’s believing in me for once, and trusting that I know what’s best and if I don’t I’ll figure it out with a little help.  I love the way I look, and that’s what matters.  All I can encourage you to do, you the reader, is to love yourself for who you are (cheese warning again) because you’re perfect if you see it yourself.

Jesus I’m blind and even I can see my potential (most of the time.)

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