Learning not to care what other people think

The other week I bought myself some well overdue new work shoes. All in all not a greatly significant life event you might say, but I beg to differ.

These new shoes would not only serve the practical purpose of protecting my feet from moving cages and kickstools, but symbolised an important shift in my life:

I don't care what other people think.

For my whole career at Tesco (an entire four years as of this week...*spew*) I have relied on the safety of black ballet pumps. They are basic but smart, feminine but sturdy, and for me, they are the type of shoe that I feel most comfortable in.

The other week, however, our grocery manager stopped to talk to me as I was pulling a cage through the back.

"Vicky, those shoes are giving me the fear," he said to me "be careful!"

Now, the shoes in question were extremely old- I have genuinely worn these babies roughly since I was in sixth year- and they have served me well. But it's safe to say they've been past their best for a while now, and it was only once Lee pointed out how awful they were that I realised I'd better start hunting for a replacement.

And so this takes me to the important moment in question.

For as long as I can remember I have done everything in my power to be liked. Whether this has been through wearing the same kind of clothes as my friends to fit in, to keeping my mouth shut for fear of being made fun of. It's crippling. But recently I have become a lot more secure in myself, and with this has come a welcome sense of peace. Without other people's views of me clogging up my brain I have made a lot more room for the things that really matter, the most important of which has been... myself.

So from then on I decided to leave my pump wearing days behind me, and switch to actual shoes. For some reason this concept made me quite nervous, despite knowing numerous girls over the years who have worn black Vans/Converse to work and looked absolutely fine. But that just wasn't the type of person I was.

I kept putting the dreaded shopping trip off partly because I didn't want to spend any money, but also because I really didn't know where to start. Eventually, I meandered up to Primark (where else?!) with an open mind and a slightly less readily open purse.

After clambering up the escalators I found myself surrounded by summer sandals and a variety of flip-flops, with very little black in sight. Before I could get distracted by all the loafers and pumps, I let my eyes get drawn to one of the only all black pairs of shoes on the rack.

From a distance these bog standard spongey monstrosities did not look attractive in any way, but they ticked both the comfort and black sole & canvas boxes, and so I found myself extremely tempted.

And so I bought them.

For the first time in my life, I put comfort before fashion/appearance... "is this it? Is this what getting old is like?" I found myself wondering. And the answer is probably yes. But further than that:

it was a sign of no longer giving a fuck.

And oh what a wonderful feeling that was.

I can promise you that almost nobody notices what you wear on your feet, especially at work, so why should you care if somebody is shallow enough to have something to say about it? I've recently found that doing things for my own sake rather than suffocating myself with the fear of what social consequences might come as a result of my decisions has left me a much happier, care-free person. And I'm beginning to love who I am.

We are young, and over the last few months I have been working on completely changing my way of looking at life for the better. I have wasted a disgusting amount of time in the past worrying about what people say or think about me, how people view the way I look and stressing about whether people are staring at me when I sit in a café by myself when in reality, it means nothing. It gets you nowhere. And if anything, it just makes you more sad.

I think that for me, a lot of this has come from the amazing and inspiring people on my course at uni. As drama students, we have a rep for being a little bit 'out there', but really we're all just young adults living our lives and wearing whatever the hell we want. I'm slowly but surely following in the footsteps of all the gorgeous and confident ladies around me and I don't doubt for a minute that I have them to thank for my new found outlook (if you're reading this, you know who you are), and I would hugely recommend that all of you reading this do too!

All of this kind of ties in with the whole origin of this blog, as it's my space for my benefit, and if other people enjoy reading this as much as I enjoy sitting writing it, then mission accomplished. And for those who poke fun at my hobby? See ya. Your opinion is void, and you are the kind of person I'm no longer allowing to have any space in my head.

So the moral of this story is- be brave and do something just for you, who knows where a pair of slightly ugly (but very comfy) new shoes might get you? I can guarantee that not caring, or at the very least caring less, what other people think is the first step to a much happier existence.

 Vicky x