This may the most Emo Emily post I have ever written and will ever post. Fueled mostly by menstruation, I have felt completely stuck like an Asian at a yellow light for past week. I always feel this way around the New Year and have no fucking clue why. I usually blame being a Jew and feeling conflicted internally that I have to celebrate two New Years and than coincidently have to pick which one is the real thing.
I have a quarter life crisis at least 5 times a year. I am insanely hard on myself and riddled with excess adrenaline. I care way too much what people think of me. It’s not the worst thing in the world. Why do we as a society celebrate not giving a fuck? I give huge fucks. Mazel Tov, you don’t care what people think, how “Los Feliz” of you. My livelihood is based on a stranger’s approval so it is to my best benefit to care. Right? RIGHT.
Last week while staying at my parent’s house during the holidays I ran into an old middle school “friend.” I do not do these situations well. I get really nervous and highly over share. I let her know I was constipated – why this is my go-to topic of convo I will NEVER know. We were both in the tampon aisle; I hadn’t started menstruating yet but was trying to channel The Secret for my last moments of 2014. Like I say every month “better to GET your period, than not.” I then awkwardly mentioned how serendipitous it was to reunite in the feminine product aisle and offered her a high five for “not being pregnant.” I then continued to over share and told her I have yet to actually GET my period but was anticipating a real menstrual monsoon based on recent cravings. She indulged me in my ovulation small talk and made a joke “Maybe you’re just pregnant?” I laughed and shot back, “Luckily, I have a sketchy friend who swears a few lines of cocaine, a scorching hot bath, and a day of extreme horseback riding will solve that issue.” This did not go over well.
Once again, in my pursuit of being charming, I had taken it too far. Sensing her disdain for my failed joke (although not REALLY a joke – my friend swears it works) I gave an awkward hug and evacuated the aisle quickly. Fuck. Then the tornado in my head started brewing. Uh-oh, what if she had a baby? What if she is in a Pro-Life Initiative Group? What is a Pro-Life Initiative Group? What if she thinks I am a drug addict? I have never even done cocaine… Although it would be a great way to aide in a deviated septum so I could get a free nose job. Why do I even care?
I started awkwardly pacing through different aisles debating whether I should stage another run-in and try to redeem myself. I decided I had done enough damage and should spare myself the opportunity to make anymore inappropriate jokes. I could already check abortion and substance abuse off my list. What would be next? Holocaust jokes? It was time to leave.
Later that day I started thinking about perception. Sometimes who we really are and who people think we are can be a scary paradox. Why the fuck did I care SO much about what a glorified stranger thought about me? As I tried to talk myself off the metaphorical cliff of worrying about making the front page of our local newspaper “Jackie Schimmel Hates Unborn Children AND Does Cocaine!” I sat down and found unlikely solace from Valerie Cherish. For those of you, who don’t watch “The Comeback” or don’t find Valerie Cherish to be the MOST loveable and endearing character on television I need you out of my life. Val taught me that while a public opinion is nice– the most important is the opinion you have of yourself. If your hair is ratchet, you can buy a weave. If you’re not that cerebral, you can hire a tutor. But you can’t buy a good reputation.
Amy, I am really sorry if I offended you. I have yet to pick up any form of substance abuse and generally like 70% of small children. I still think it was really funny and hope you will forgive me… #igaf