Sometimes it's the 'trivial' things that affect you the most. My brain injury (let's call it the B.I. from now on) inadvertently forced me to change not only my writing hand (but I love now being a member of the lefty club) but also my entire outward identity - my style. A lot to comprehend when you are a 19 year old girl, who's also a journo student wanting to write for Vogue. I've got long legs and used to show them off in little skirts, little dresses, little shorts and sky-high heels. I was simply a young girl. A young girl with almost waist-length hair and a habit for spending most of my money of clothes and shoes.
Waking up from a coma with a shaved head was the start of my transformation. Over the following year it was shaved before most operations so the surgeons could reopen the nasty scars on my skull. Every time my hair would start growing back - they'd take a big chunk out of it. You could almost say I started the trend of half-undercut pixie style hair, all the way back in 2004. Ha.
When the occupational therapists and physios finally got me out of the wheelchair and 'walking' - I assumed I'd be wearing heels again in no time! I think I ignored the subtle sideways-glances between therapists whenever I verbalised this goal. Velcro sneakers were the hospital's recommendation. Plenty of people benefit from wearing these and that's great - but going from heeels to velcro was hard to bear. Right-sided paralysis is the reason - i.e. no muscle working in my right ankle or foot. Long story short - I refused to wear velcro (stubbornness can be a good trait) but I grew tired of waiting around for the nurses to tie my shoes in the morning...so I had to teach myself. It is possible. I still get the shocked looks from people when I do it. If something like shoelaces is preventing you from leaving your hospital room - you find a way around it.
Just like the laces, unless I wanted to greet the male nurses and therapists with bare nipples in the morning, I had to work out how to do up my own bra. It's pretty simple, lay the bra on the bed, do the little latch-thing up and put the bra on, already fastened, over your head. Easy. Anyway, enough about my morning rituals. Basically, I've had a style transition from being a 'girly girl' to a kind of an androgynous/red lipstick/b&w/skinny jeans/leather/boots/cons/minimalistic/classic/tees/tights/occasionalbrightcolour/60s shift dress wearing girl - if that makes any sense. Which I'm sure it doesn't. My wardrobe is 77% black and warm - that's why Melbourne and I are a perfect match.
I've always wondered if 'all of this' would be easier if I was a tomboy who didn't care about material things like their wardrobe - specifically high-heels. Then I stop angosing over it and realise, it'd be hard regardless of the situation you're in. You just have to work around those difficulties and find your own solutions. Forgive me for using this corny cliche but it's so appropriate here - 'where there's a will there's a way'.