Creating my self esteem

I've suffered from body dysmorphia for a very long time.

As a teenager I squeezed my thighs into the requisite skinny, lower rider jeans. I avoided knee high boots because none would fit over my calves. I apologised, hid and desperately tried to look like everyone else. I still hear the comments; "yellow makes you look ill", "maybe those shorts are too short", "that top is too baggy", "wear sleeves", "don't be so conservative". What I no longer remember is who said them, was it my mother? Maybe the kids at school?

At 18 I moved away from my small hometown to the city for university. I was no longer surrounded by the beautiful, skinny girls I grew up around. Fashion became more about self expression and less about exactly copying the "cool kids". It took a year for me to put away the skinny jeans and reclaim my love for dresses. At 19 I didn't know how to dress myself, what colours to wear, which silhouettes suited. To add to the difficulty, my tall hourglass frame is far from fashionable. If it fit my bust it would drown my waist.

One day I went shopping with my older sister. She would pick out clothes for me I wouldn’t have looked at twice, I would never admit this to her but she was instrumental in rebuilding my confidence. I finally found my shape, my silhouette, my style, but nothing reached past mid thigh and waist lines would sit at the same level as my bra strap. I knew I could feel comfortable, but finding clothing that fit was impossible on the high street, and internet shopping was still so new.

My mother gifted me a sewing machine at 23. I grew up watching her create quilt after quilt, she dabbled in clothes but could never get them quite right and they usually disappeared into the scrap heap. I was determined to make it work. I bought a pattern, fabric and fastenings. I "borrowed" mum's cutting mat, scissors and tailors chalk and jumped in. Toile, what's a toile? It was a disaster, of course. I didn't know how to read a pattern or adjust the size, so I made a sack that was both too tight and too loose. I spiraled back into my body dysmorphic obsessions, all I could think was that I was just the wrong shape.

I picked myself up, I figured out how to measure myself, and made a handful of dresses in cheap cotton fabric. For the first time in my life people started to compliment my clothes, and I could respond with pride: "I made it myself". I wore one of these dresses until it started to pull apart at the seams, it didn't take long as I had no idea how to finish edges, but I was so proud of it. That dress still lives in my wardrobe, in the vain hope of being repaired.

For many reasons the sewing machine gathered dust for years. I was barely dragging myself awake for work, days off became days in bed, and the question: "did you make that?" tore me apart. I was no longer good enough, I had nothing to be proud of. It took years to regain my focus and turn my thoughts outwards, to get out of my own head. 4 years had passed and I had nothing to show for it.

During the summer of 2019-2020 fires raged around us. I commuted to work through a fug of smoke, working as a veterinarian, I had friends on the frontline and was daily confronted by the true reality of these bushfires. Then the call came out for cotton pouches for wildlife. I dragged out my machine and started sewing, it brought me a sense of peace and community, and I remembered the feeling of satisfaction at the end of a project.

The coronavirus pandemic threw up another challenge, we couldn't get surgical masks for work. I made a few for my colleagues, then a few more and before I knew it I had a production line going, making masks to sell to clients at work. I got compliments on my handiwork, and I refined my skills making these simple rectangular masks. This is when I knew I wanted to get back to making my own clothing.

I have found joy in finding fabrics and designs that suit my pin-up girl aesthetic. Learning to alter and fit patterns has been the key to unlocking my self esteem. I have learnt to love my body, she is strong and healthy. My psychiatrist once told me that I wear this "costume" to stop people from getting close to me, but I don't know that I agree with this. My dresses and many layers of petticoats give me confidence to leave the house, they feel right on my body, they feel like me. With this foundation I can relax enough to show my personality.

Having lived for 4 years inside my head, I missed a lot. My passion for the environment took a back seat when my only reason for getting out of the house was the take-away coffee on the way to work. I buried myself under a mountain of debt by not paying attention to efficiency. My clothing designs now focus on minimal waste, I repair things when they break and use high quality fabrics to ensure they last for a long time.

This year my goal was to not spend any money on new clothes. Everything I need or want, I make. I started well, but my wardrobe is beginning to burst. The calm I feel when I sew is addictive. Cutting out a new pattern fills me with anticipation and the moment I put a completed garment on is like nothing else. The cherry on top is feeling comfortable in my body for the first time in 29 years.

Designing, pattern hacking and sewing have released me from my anxiety. It is a skill I am immensely proud of and that I know I will continue to develop.