A strange sort of witch, with a kind and loving heart.

This essay will include discussions on body image and the adverse self image that comes from abuse. If this is not for you, please feel free to skip this and come back next time. xoxo

*deeps breath*

I have which can be best described as an incredibly complicated relationship with the Tim Burton Sleepy Hollow. I have written two previous, lengthy essays (here, and here) on my feelings towards it, but I think for the sake of this instance, to reiterate them here (abbreviated), too.

My feelings about said Burton film are thus: The Disney version is the greatest iteration of the Sleepy Hollow story, and the Burton film is everything wrong with the way in which this story is misinterpreted. The Burton film reminds me of how people always misinterpret (500) Days of Summer as a love story when it is explicitly stated not to be one in the opening. Instead of a creepy, entitled dirty old man (which, in both the original Irving tale and the Disney telling, he is), Ichabod Crane is a soft, emo brooding whiner, who also happens to be so much smarter than everyone else (because he is... Not Like Other Girls, I GUESS). Mind you, an emo brooding whiner who is so much smarter than everyone else who "gets the girl" over the big meanie jock (which is a staple of Burton storytelling). The voiceless animated Katrina has more agency, personality, and nuance than Burton's. The Burton Sleepy Hollow is a stunningly beautiful film, with incredible ambiance, visuals, and score--but it's not a good retelling of the Washington Irving story. And, you know, I get it, not everything has to be as faithful as the Disney version (down to Ichabod having green eyes!), but the Burton version completely missed the point. I feel like the Burton version is the whiny emo incel fantasy everyone misremembers the Irving version to be. It IS a beautiful film for all of its flaws, it's just a bad film if you're using being an adaptation of the Irving original as any kind of metric. In a strange way, the animated Disney version is considerably less juvenile than the Burton one. Burton doesn't get it, because everything is really always about him.

My friend Colin of ColinLooksBack did some pretty excellent (as always) analysis of the Disney film.

You can all me a hypocrite all you want, but shortly after writing the scathing essays, nothing about my misgivings towards the Tim Burton film were going to stop me from buying things from the La Femme en Noir Sleepy Hollow collection. Yeah, yeah, I KNOW. I KNOW. 😑😒😩I bought a purse (which is no longer on the website, but this is what it looks like) and this dress. The following year, they put out a shirt version of it, but it didn't have the lace up in the front. I passed on it when the collection was first released, but I bought this skirt second-hand, which you can see here. Also, last year, after hemming and hawing over it for over a year, got some pretty terrible news about a bad person being rewarded, and helllooooooo, Trauma Purchase! You can see me wearing it here, and here for  my Vanessa Disney Bound. 😅

I also have what can be best described as an incredibly complicated relationship with my body.

I have only worn the dress a handful of times, as I don't tend to wear form fitting dresses, and especially because of the fabric this particular one is made out of, it's not entirely flattering on me. I will go so far as to openly confess I was actively embarrassed about the way my body looked in this dress. I know it's not very noticeable to others, but is to me, but my lower abdomen protrudes. The upper part of my abs to my belly button are chiseled and toned, but my lower abdomen is squishy, soft and doughy because of a hormonal imbalance. In fact, I am pretty embarrassed about it, and there are time when it makes me feel legitimately repulsive. I also tend to physically feel my shame and embarrassments there. I never wore the dress, it stayed in my closet. I waffled back and forth on selling it, but still couldn't bring myself to. I would list it for sale, and then take it down a couple of times. But I just couldn't bring myself to part with it.

Then, over the course of the last few months, I tried my hand at sewing, and, with some help, consider myself okay at it. I decided to just... bite the bullet and turn the dress into a top.

I finally decided to just bite the bullet and.... CUT THE DRESS.

OH MY GOD.

Running this material through the two sewing machines had horrible results, so I ended up hand sewing the hemmed bottom, which ended up being fine, to wear tomorrow. When I get a sturdier machine, I will go over the hem again, but for now, I am happy with it. It just a small step, but it's another step towards the reclamation of my body.