If you know me or have ever met my dog (my Pomeranian Mr. Big), you may have heard me mention my love of all things "Sex and the City." My friends and I followed the show and I have a collection of SATC memorabilia, a vast knowledge of the show’s characters and what some might term an obsession with the series. In some ways I really relate to the show’s main character – I even have a wifebeater that reads, "I’m a Carrie."
No, I don’t have $40,000 worth of shoes (I work at a non-profit people), nor have I dated my way through Manhattan, but I do understand being difficult and clumsy and wanting so much to just be simple and graceful.
In one of my favorite episodes, Carrie ends the show by saying "I will never be the woman with the perfect hair, who can wear white and not spill on it, and chair committees, and write thank you notes, and I can't feel bad about that." That quote pretty much sums up my life.
I think I am a fairly fun person. I was recently joking with Wes that I am "hours of entertainment." I was surprised that he actually agreed and when I pressed him for examples of how I can be so damn entertaining, his answer supported the fact that no matter how hard I try, I’m not one of those neat, "put together," perfect type of girls. He said, "give you a bowl of red pasta and a white shirt." Not exactly what I was thinking. I was hoping he would say I’m fun when I’m dancing, or my witty banter is engaging, but he highlighted one of my quirks. If you’ve ever eaten with me, you know I have a tendency to spill, dribble, or drip. In college it was the stuff of comedy. People used to say, "If you feed them they will grow" in reference to the crumbs on my breasts.
Sure, I can see how it is cute and endearing, but I have always wanted the poise and grace I so definitely lack. I am the girl that trips over her own feet all the time. If there is a way for me to do something embarrassing, I find it. Sometimes I look for the candid camera because there is just no way that I can believe this is my real life.
So on that note, I decided to start this blog. I know I have been lapse in communicating since I moved to DC, and I do want to be better. This is my small attempt at sharing my life with friends across the country. I may not be able to walk around Dupont Circle without tripping over my own ballet flats, but I can type and tell others all about my missteps and adventures.
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3 comments:
I've always been a fan of the thought that imperfection IS perfection. People that are perfect (or rather seem that way) tend only to make us anxious, and do you really want to be in a relationship (romantic, platonic, or otherwise) with anyone that doesn't make you feel comfortable? It's the blemishes, the imperfections, the wrinkles and dents that make us look around and say "I'm home."
These are all of the resons that you are my best friend. What fun would it have been for you to get all dressed up for prom and ready to walk out the door, without first spilling glue all down your dress. If you were perfect and graceful we would not have the wonderful memory of walking down the peir in Galveston and you tripping right beside me only to get up and yell, "I am sotally tober"(completely serious, I might add.) These are the things that make memories and good times. I love you and all of your imperfections!
I love you just the way you are. I would want to any other version of you.
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