Sometimes, I wish I wore midriffs, and hoop earrings, and pulled them off. Sometimes, I wish I enjoyed Latino club music, and looked good dancing to it. Sometimes, I wish there was a point to this blog.
But, as usual, life evades my sometimes-desires.
I’ve spent years trying to make my awkwardness look cool. My sophomore year of high school was spent wasting all of my first-job earnings on sequined tops that resembled everything in Hannah Montana’s closet. I was described as ‘quirky’ by all of my classmates, and I spent the rest of high school hoping that Zac Efron or one of the Jonas Brothers would show up in class and ask me to prom. (A fact that proves my inability to determine what was actually cool from what was inherently just an extension of my awkwardness).
In college, I started to embrace my lack of coolness a bit more, but that may have been a subconscious effort to fit in with the hipsters. Besides, my awkwardness has only increased ten-fold with each year. It’s to the point where I fall up the stairs 99% of the time.
Still, I’ve learned to love my un-coolness. I may not be the skinny, pretty blonde lead, but I’m okay with my best-friend status in life. You see, if there’s something I’ve learned from every single Disney movie ever, it’s that the lead characters are never the most interesting or entertaining. In fact, Snow White and her many princess companions are really kind of dull beyond their looks.
Don’t get me wrong, I love Disney princesses (maybe a little too much). But they aren’t particularly entertaining. Pretty face, pretty voice, but they don’t make me laugh. They don’t have brains. (Well, that point is arguable, but I won’t get into that here.) No, if you want to make life interesting you have to be a Dwarf. Or a mouse. Or Robin Williams.
That’s why I’m okay with being the sidekick. That’s why I’m okay with being the average looking woman with a great personality (maybe I’m a bit bias since I have to live with me for the rest of my life). Someone’s got to carry the film and make sure it sells. I’m okay with that. I don’t like sappy romance movies, anyways. They’re a little too obnoxious for my tastes.
I do kind of wish I didn’t fall into so many awkward moments, though. That would make my life 100% more comfortable.
In other news, my infant nephew has been dubbed “Poolander” (Get it?). A chip off the ol’ awkward block, eh? Looking forward to the many years I have ahead of me, teaching the little guy that it’s okay to be Luke and not get the girl, or Han Solo and not be a Jedi. We’ll see where his priorities lay.
So, to sum up: My life is basically Hermione minus her intuitive awesomeness and ability to woo sports celebrities, and I’m totally happy with that. Maybe someday I’ll spill my coffee running into some poor chap and we’ll bond over my awkwardness. Maybe we’ll live happily ever after. Or maybe I’ll get a really lovable, fluffy dog, and that’ll be great too. It’s all up in the air at this point.
Life: A fine, smelly, metaphorically awkward cheese. How delicious.
Until we meet again,