As an example: I am a person who hates hot weather, and I'm spending most of my time in an area where the average late summer/early fall temperatures hover in the 80s. I don't wear shorts, because I'm not a fan, so I run around in jeans and tanktops or t-shirts. I still get too hot. In my dorm room, I'll usually lose the top and lounge in jeans and a sportsbra. The kind that looks like a spaghetti-strap top cut off at the ribs.
If you look at the summer fashions common on campus, there are plenty of girls who show a LOT more skin while walking around in public.
I am by no means physically perfect. Given that societal norms involve being painfully skinny, with hair like so and proportions like so and eyes this color, 5'8'' of big-boned, curvaceous, somewhat chubby redhead is not going to just blend. As such, I have two options: desperately try to hide what I am and fit in, or say 'to hell with you, society. I like me and there's nothing you can do about it'. Yeah, I went with the second one.
Now, if I'm lounging around in an outfit that more than meets requirements for decency, I'm not going to scramble to put a shirt on if a friend drops by or my roommate returns- no complaints means no changing my habits. What happens when other people are outside is interesting...
Typically, if there is another girl outside when I open the door and am standing there in the aforementioned bra and baggy jeans, one of several things happens:
- The girl stares, shocked
- The girl looks disgusted
- The girl tries to ignore me
- The girl makes a hasty getaway
- The girl looks distinctly uncomfortable
In doing what I do and being happy with what I look like, I calmly take a sledgehammer to the pillars of the hierarchy of young women. According to the social system we pick up in middle school, the more perfect and conforming to fashion you are, the better you are, so that only those who strive to be exact replicas of women who pose for a living can rule. This system leaves the most self-conscious twits in power, and those who aren't good enough in no position to help themselves. I, however, am big, cuddly, pale, freckled, scarred, a little pudgy, bespectacled, have tan lines, have uneven nails, have calluses, and am not ashamed.
I intimidate the girls who can't imagine being happy without being perfect.
And I don't care.