SUPERficial

You know what word I hate? Superficial. And most of its synonyms (which, I’ll admit, I totally just Googled)–shallow, skin-deep, sciolistic. Now, I now there are a lot of meanings to these words, some of which are terrible, like being self-absorbed to the point of ignorance. But when most people toss out the word “superficial,” it’s regarding a girl who is obsessed with fashion and makeup and clothes, because these are “shallow,” “superficial” things.

And you know who is someone who’s obsessed with fashion and makeup and clothes? Me. So I take offense to that, thankyouverymuch! Because here’s how I see it–a stamp-collector, or a basketball fanatic, or an avid woodworker, or a surfer who never leaves the ocean–are all obsessed with something particular, and no one calls them “superficial.” Why? Because style and cosmetics are related to one’s appearance, and woodworking–not so much.

But why does loving these things have to make you “shallow,” when no one would say that to a fat guy in a Nets jersey who DVRs every game? Why can’t people separate the fact that “superficial” things relate to¬†aesthetic¬†with the “superficial” person’s love of these things? Loving clothes doesn’t mean you love them because you are self-absorbed regarding your own appearance, it could mean that you appreciate the artistry in a fashion designer’s work, or that you love the experience of pairing and styling clothes to create outfits. It’s all fine and dandy for a nerd to bore your face off about Dr. Who, but if you breathe a word about Chanel, you’re suddenly a boring, shallow bimbo.

So, people-who-label-and-shame-others-by-calling-them-superficial, the next time you decide to write off a makeup junkie or a shopaholic, realize that it’s just a hobby or fixation like anything else, and then go back to your bird-watching or scrapbooking.

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Scrap-Person

When I was little, I had this really weird habit of wanting to be just one “type” of person. A perfectly encapsulated stereotype of a human, 100% of the time found in some movie I liked. And it usually never made sense. Some of the people I remember wanting to be are: a gladiator (guess what film that one was from?), a grease monkey, a glamorous lady, and Alison from Judy Blume’s Just as Long as We’re Together because she was always nice and everyone loved her.

And then I grew up, and nothing changed. Okay, a little changed–I stopped caring about making my personality like people from books and movies (because I’m AWESOME) and mostly wanted to look/dress/have hair like people from books and movies. So I’d go all bananas on one style for a few weeks, then move on to the next one. Bada-bing. But some notable characters stuck out, and so these are the people whose style I steal in some kind of twisted self-scrapbooking way:

Brigitte Bardot

Brigitte is my girl forever. She’s gorgeous, crazy, timeless, and her clothes are un-fucking-real. I love her giant hair and raccoon eyes, but it’s her outfits that go into my WildHearts scrapbook of life.

Candice Swanepoel

Scrapbook element: makeup. After all, if you’re going to have face-paint inspiration, who better than a Victoria’s Secret model?

Ballerinas

They’re the reason I love black tights. Ballet clothes are so pretty and simple and effortless and, sure, look way better on anorexic dancers than the average person, but who said I was average?

Bohemians

I forgot to add “gypsy” to the list of things I really wanted to be when I was little.

I’m bored now. You’re probably bored too! Or, if you’re an American, you’re probably too busy watching your dad blow off his fingers with a firework to read this post.

 

Bragplaining

Do you know what I really don’t like? Bragplainers.

I didn’t make up that word. Somebody who also hates bragplainers probably did, and then all their friends were like, “Wow, that is annoying,” and told all their friends, and then it wound up on Urban Dictionary. So for those of you not in the know, just click those colorful words and be transported to a magical Internet land (hint: it’s PORN! Haha just kidding…or am I? Click it and find out).

But seriously. It’s annoying, but worse than that, it’s obvious. Like, only super-stupid people are going to be all, “Oh, you’re bitching about something awesome? I’m so sorry awesome stuff upsets you! Wow, I feel really bad.” And even if a super-stupid person did that, I don’t think that’s the reaction bragplainers want. I think they want people to be like, “Come on, that doesn’t suck, it’s actually great!” And guess what, dickface bragplainers? YOU ALREADY KNOW IT’S GREAT, SO WHY DO YOU NEED PEOPLE TO TELL YOU THAT? Even out-and-out bragging is better than bragplaining.

"Dude, it's really hard to look like this. T-shirts are always too tight, and girls never want me for my intellect."

I mean, don’t get me wrong. Say, for example, you have bitchin’ high-speed Internet and it goes really slow one day. And you’re all, “God, my Internet is so fucking slow, how annoying!” That’s fine. That’s cool. That’s just good, old-fashioned complaining, and everybody needs to vent. Get it all out. Maybe go Office Space on your computer, if you’re so inclined. Plus, fuck technology; it annoys everyone. But if you say, “Ugh, my brand-new Louboutin heels really hurt my feet,” I politely invite you to go suck a bag of dicks. (And give me your fucking Louboutins, if they’re so unbearably painful.)

The thing is, bragplainers, we all see through you. Your fishing-for-compliments-ness is so obvious. And stupid. Because, hello, I am 987 times more likely to compliment you about something you actually show appreciation for, rather than something you bitch about. You know why? Because bragplaining is dumb, S a D, and buy me some shoes, that’s why.

Thankful Thank-Yous (A Day Late)

Happy Black Friday!

I’m usually late for everything, and this thankfulness-list is no exception. So: I am thankful for all the usual things (friends, family, a roof over my head, and all the rest of it), but here are some of the random things I am thankful for:

Sushi (thank you, Japan, for making something so scrumptious), the inventor of Skor (toffee + chocolate + my face = mouthgasam…seriously, it’s simple math), hair brushes (without them, I would have a white-girl afro), whoever pioneered using your mouth for things other than kissing (smart dude), kissing (I mean, you can never go wrong with the classics), the sun for not having a supernova-level bitch fit and eating up Earth (keep up the good work, Mr. Golden Sun), all the turkeys who escaped being eaten yesterday (may you live to gobble for many more seasons), all the people who were lucky enough to eat turkey yesterday (YAY not starving!), people who pick up other people’s books when they drop them (you are nice), friends who tell you when you have something in your teeth (because it’s a lot nicer to know about it than walk around looking icky), the creator of fishtail braids (they make me feel even more Irish than usual), and the book that tells me how to make paper cranes (folding them has gotten me through so many boring minutes).

Basically: thank you, World, for having so much interesting and amazing stuff. And thank you, People, for being so nice and strange and wonderful.

Happy Thanksgiving.