I am the fourth child in my family. I have an older sister, an older brother and a younger brother. As my mother said, my arrival is as silent as the snow late at night in winter.
Needless to say, I have no connection with new clothes. All I remember are my elder sister’s old clothes, and sometimes I even wear them in adult sizes. When I was twelve years old, I woke up and went on a hunger strike to get a floral skirt.
A small skirt made my teenage years colorful. In that era of black, gray and blue, I was not as obedient as my sisters. I wore the clothes I liked, even if they were old, and the ones I didn’t like were new. I didn’t wear them either, so I bought my own clothes early.
Because I used soap to wash my feet, my daughter-in-law from outside the village was envious. She imitated me and was scolded by my mother-in-law. When I saw the curly hair of a girl in a movie, I heated up my chopsticks and curled them myself (in that era of extreme material poverty, if you burned out a few pairs of chopsticks, you would be beaten). Because of your love for beauty, if you are not liked by your family or valued by your teachers, you will be classified as "alternative".
After decades, the years are not forgiving, but they are not cruel enough to leave me with nothing, no out-of-shape body shape, being envied by others for my clothes, and often being asked by my best friends to help me buy clothes. These are not all my distant achievements. Of?
Thanks to my distant self for making me the elegant woman that others call me.
