Don’t Debbie Down

I just watched The Truth About Cats and Dogs yesterday, by which I mean I fell asleep forty minutes into The Truth About Cats and Dogs. Before you immediately X out of your internet in fear of reading a whole post about an Uma Thurman movie, don’t worry. It just made me think of a stellar (read: stupid) blog topic for the day: Unconfident Debbie-Downer Type People!

Now, everybody knows someone like this. Maybe you are someone like this, but since you’re amazing enough to be reading my blog, I doubt it. You know the type: they complain constantly about themselves/how life hates them/how they have such bad luck/how nothing good ever comes their way. Usually, they attribute these complains to some personal trait. This probably generalizes to a whole bunch of Debbie Downers in a variety of situations, but I have most often encountered the Unconfident I-Am-So-Ugly-That-Life-Will-Never-Be-Good girl.

Take Janeane Garofalo from the Cats and Dogs movie. For the entire forty minutes my brain managed to focus on the TV without spontaneously combusting [note: if you typo this “cumbusting,” which I did, it’s a lot funnier], Jenny does nothing but bitch and complain about how she knows she is sooooo plain and hideous that the mere sight of her face turns men into eunuchs. In one scene, she drops salsa on her top BECAUSE SHE IS BEING A FUCKING SLOB AND WAVING AROUND A SALSA-COVERED CHIP and just says something to the effect of, “Oh, that would happen to me,” with such self-pity and desperation I think even the TV cringed.

I have, tragically, encountered this type of person more than once. Usually, they live on Tumblr, and churn out things like this. If you’re too lazy to click the link (no shame in that, man), it says, “If all girls started wearing no makeup and comfortable clothes, guys would have no choice but to fall for girls because of natural beauty.” I’ll give you a moment to swallow your vomit.

Now, that might seem a tad unrelated to the whole Uma Thurman movie, but the Unconfident People weave a tangled web, my friends. For the specific sub-set of Debbie Downers I’m talking about, their internal thought process apparently goes something like this:

“I do not think I am attractive.” –> “Good things happen to attractive people, but not to me, because [see previous].” –> “My life would be so much better if I was more attractive, but [see first statement].” –> “Therefore, I will hate everyone who I perceive to be attractive because [see second statement].”

As you can see, this complicated flow chart reflects the inner mind of an Unconfident Debbie Downer. Hate yourself, blame everything on earth on the thing you hate about yourself, and then hate everyone who has the trait you feel you’re lacking in. If I’m coming off a little harsh, it’s only because I want these people to SNAP OUT OF IT. Everyone has a good quality, and I am a firm believer that anyone can look attractive with proper care. For some reason, girls who long to be pretty but think they are ugly would rather bitch and complain about “slutty” girls with their whorish, eeeeevil makeup than slap some on themselves. News flash, Debbie Downers: that so-called tramp you’re hating on out of obvious jealousy probably looks exactly like you before she goes to the time and effort of making herself look better.

Don’t mistake me–girls do not need makeup. If you genuinely don’t like makeup, don’t wear it. But also, don’t bitch that you’re ugly, because God floated down from his cloud and make Revlon for a reason. And don’t call other girls sluts because they chose to do something you don’t. Oh, and as for that idiotic little Tumblr quote–any guy who wouldn’t date you because you don’t wear makeup is a massive douche, and not worth your time anyway.

My rant is nearing its close, so if you’ve hung in here this long, don’t think I’m a crazy. Everyone feels bad about themselves from time to time; it’s all a natural part of life and blah blah something holistic blah. All I am saying is that there is absolutley no reason to hate any part of your sexy self so think about that the next time you’re about to call someone you think (think! That doesn’t mean it’s true!) is prettier than you a fat, pig-faced whorebag.

This rant brought to you by the Coalition For People Who Are Sick of Hearing People Hate On Other People For Stupid Reasons Because We’re All Just Beautiful Flowers Anyway, Man.

Advertisements

Every Celebrity I’ve Ever Been Compared to, Ever

Something about my face makes people compare me to other people. I don’t know why, but I get a lot of “you look like blankity-blank” nonsense. Which is usually flattering, but on the rare occasions it hasn’t been I just stare at them while trying really hard to look attractive so that they’ll go, “Oh, you know what, you don’t actually look like [ugly] blank, you look like [super sexy] blank!” And then I will stop holding my face perfectly still and say, “Why thank you.”

My favorite one to get is Brigitte Bardot, for obvious reasons. She’s French, she’s drop-dead gorgeous (which is a really creepy expression, but I love it anyway), and of all the people I’ve been compared to I like her the best. She’s my style icon, to boot (by which I mean, my excuse for wearing lots of cat’s-eye liner and high-wasited things–no one argues when you say, “Well, Brigitte Bardot did it!” And if they do argue they’re a dick).

Plus, we have a lot in common, looks-wise: we both have a squarish jawline (so attractive–but I don’t really mind it, because if Minnie Driver got into movies with that octagon she calls a face than not having a perfect oval head seems a small price to pay for the rest of us), big eyes, big lips, and blonde hair (which I cut, intentionally, with Bardot bangs). And if this all sounds really conceited, fuck off, because if you’re still reading this it was conceited from the first sentence so don’t go getting all shirty about it now. (God, I love calling people shirty. It’s not even an American expression, so whenever I say it to my friends no one understands. But it is GLORIOUS. I hope “pants-y” comes around as a synonym for “uptight tool.”) What was I saying? Oh yeah, how me and BB are incredibly attractive twins–our heights are an inch apart, and if the Internet is to be trusted, she’s a 36B to my 34 (although she looks a bit more equipped in the bazoonga department than that to me, but what am I, a traveling boob expert?).

Long, self-absorbed story short, I like being compared to her because it makes me feel prettyyyy, so pretty, something something something prettyyyyy and gayyyyyy!

But there are other individuals I’ve been compared to, and some of those are less flattering. By a lot. When I was a lot younger (and, I like to think, before my face was fully formed into the glorious object it is today), I got Uma Thurman a lot. I can still, tragically, see why some people might say that, but I haven’t gotten in years. And I once got “Paris Hilton, but without the nose!” Also when I was younger, I got compared to Hilary Duff, but in all fairness that was by a group of black girls at a charter school who rarely saw white people (and that’s not racism, just a statement of fact). I rarely saw black people when I was younger, but since I’m not a dick I didn’t call them all Raven Symone.

Diversity.

Those are all the less-attractive celebrities I’ve been compared to, unless someone said something horrible like Rosie O’Donnell and I blocked it from my memory or something. Besides Brigitte Bardot, I get compared to Scarlett Johannsen sometimes, which is highly complementary but not crazy-accurate (although any time I get bored and do some “celebrity face match” I get her), and Sarah Michelle Gellar (also not accurate, but I love Buffy so I’m okay with it), and once, very misguidedly, Kiera Knightly.

So now the People of the Internet know (kind of) what I look like. And that I am extremely vain and never forget a compliment. Maybe if someone does a face mashup of BriUmParHilarScarSarKie it will look just like me. (Although if you do that, a. You’re creepy, b. You have an extreme amount of time on your hands, and c. Please send it to me.)