Like most people, I’m a complex individual who assumes many different roles around many different people, but ultimately I feel as if I boil down to this: A girl with small goals and simple interests. I realize that this sounds uninspiring and somewhat obnoxious, and maybe it is, but I’m okay with that. Some people seek excitement in their lives, but after walking down that road for a bit I’ve decided that a glitzy, adventurous life is just not for me. Mind you, when I say “excitement”, I don’t necessarily mean crazy, drug-filled nights out on the town, or boarding a shuttle to outer space—although that would be included. What I really mean is having big dreams: being a household name, an Olympic hero, groundbreaking scientist, or anybody who wants to be “the best” in their field. I sincerely admire those people, but I do not feel like one of them. I don’t have lofty aspirations and I don’t seek attention, even if it is for the noblest reasons.
I can’t say that I’ve always had this attitude. I’ve never wanted to be famous, but I did used to indulge in some form of “flashiness”. I wanted to be seen. And not by anybody in particular-- it wasn’t as if I’d sit around in bars waiting to be discovered by a photographer or the guy of dreams. I really just wanted to be gawked at and complimented on some aspect of my appearance—face, clothes, body, whatever I was feeling proud of at the moment. Several things contributed to this kind of attitude, but I believe it was largely fashion and lifestyle magazines that taught me to place this kind of emphasis on beauty. I was more or less obsessed with looking at the women in these magazines and brainstorming of ways I could transform into them. I was particularly fond of the Calvin Klein ads from back in the day; to me, Kate Moss was the ideal woman. Hopefully from that you can just imagine that at certain points in my life my values were completely twisted and lead me down some dangerous paths. But as I got older and exhausted of playing the vanity game, the reality started to sink in that I am what I am, I look like what I look like, and I can’t change it. This “it is what it is” attitude started to spread to all spheres of my life, and I let all the pretention melt away (or at least as much as possible, because living in NYC, I’m sure it’s still lingering in ways I’m not even aware of). I no longer want to mentally or physically transform myself into something that doesn’t feel natural to me. This is not to say that I don’t challenge myself, I’ve just learned to let go of losing battles.
Some people are movers and shakers, while others do their part, carrying on with their lives on a smaller scale, and they are no less important. I’m one of those people. I’m comfortable in my own skin, and I’m settling into a life where I have the things I need to keep me happy.
My sister works in advertising. A few years ago we went out to dinner and she told me her newest product to sell was denim baby diapers. They're essentially daisy dukes for babies. We both found the idea of them somewhat disturbing yet wildly hysterical. Here's the finished product:
This picture has nothing to do with anything, I've just always liked it.