If I use Crest Whitestrips and moisturize my face and condition my hair and eat like a vegan bird and always smile and wear expensive makeup and only post attractive pictures of myself on social networks…then my life will be perfect. I know these are lies fed to me by corporations that want me to buy things, but someone should tell them not to bother since my finances consist of a piggy bank filled with dull pennies caked in old gum.
One of the many things that has always pissed me off about Sex and the City is when Carrie Bradshaw confessed to her friends that her so-called ‘secret single behavior’ was eating saltine crackers while standing up in the kitchen reading fashion magazines. Are you fucking kidding me? She acted as if it was SO shameful, like she could never possibly do something that grotesque and horrifying in front of her significant other. That behavior is exactly what you would tell a guy you secretly do so that you come off as dainty and anorexic and that you are really into standing instead of sitting. Then Charlotte admits that her ‘secret single behavior’ is staring at her pores in the mirror for extended periods of time. Oh really? You stare at your non-existent pores in a mirror. Gasp I’m sure guys would just scream and run out of the room if they witnessed that disgusting display. This is the show I was obsessed with in my 20’s. No wonder I felt like such an inadequate whale of a human since my ‘secret single behavior’ is basically the scene from a recent episode of Girls when Lena Dunham eats cold spaghetti with her hands out of her parents’ refrigerator in the middle of the night.
I’m so sick of people trying to portray their perfect lives to the world. I prefer the 80s where everyone just covered their physical imperfections in blue eyeshadow, neon lace and Aquanet, and celebrated their misery by listening to Morrissey mix tapes. When did being a person with flaws and emotions become so obscene? Here is my unsolicited ‘secret single behavior’ confession: I sometimes have awkward staring contests with my cat as I try to figure out if he’s judging my bedhead and my recent consumption of Totino’s pepperoni pizza rolls.