I think I'm a walking stereotype because my year and a half long relationship ended, and then I started a blog. Oops. Also HUGE apologies to every girl I ever said, "You're fine, it's just one guy," to because this seriously blows. I just sent out another UberEats order to the local Greek restaurant (I say another because I've done this three days in a row), and I'm settling in for an afternoon full of Nashville (What's up with me and southern dramas? Is it the accents? The scruffy guys? The crazy amount of color-coordinated eyeshadow Hayden Panettiere wears?).
But why do you care you're asking? I'm not saying you do, and to be honest, I don't actually care if you do or if you don't.
I went abroad this past fall (I think I'm going to start bolding each stereotype, let me go back and do that real quick), and GUESS WHAT: I learned a lot about myself. Not a bad thing at all, I've realized, but definitely a conversation you don't want to get wrapped up in at a cocktail party (because I attend so many cocktail parties). Somewhere in between befriending my Prague roommates and staying as far away from them as possible, I entered the living room one evening and said the following to four girls... who had 100% dubbed me as the roommate who doesn't communicate, sit, or go drinking with them:
"Hey, you know how some people say that they're "extra"? Well, I think I might be extra."
I quickly exited the room after that. For some reason I wasn't ostracized after this incident, and I actually became friends with my roommates and other people on my program. Another crazy thing: I befriended myself a little bit (WHOA!). I'm pretty sure it's a requirement for every girl from ages 15 - 25 to hate herself in some form or another (if you don't GOOD FOR YOU. NEVER CHANGE), and I religiously devoted myself to this cause. I sought out a therapist while I was in Prague for a number of reasons, but this was probably the main battle. This was the moment in the morning when you realized you should have washed your hair the night before, and you didn't, and you don't have any more dry shampoo. This is that battle.
So, the ugly duckling turned into a swan! Sort of. I definitely dressed better, and I liked myself more, but I didn't think it was enough. I was like, Anna, you JUST found out you're not the worst person ever and you like to write - you should start a blog! But I didn't do it because I had other things to worry about, and because it didn't seem that important. Fast-forward three months and now I'm here, writing on my friend's couch right after I made her go take pictures of me in a new outfit so I could post it alongside this on my other social feeds. Stereotype.
I don't really care if I am.
I don't really care if I'm a stereotype, or if I'm "extra," or if I have mood-swings (most of these stem from losing things I haven't actually lost), or if I'm too dramatic and loud. I don't care if I wear a fur jacket to a frat party and I don't care if I wear purple lipstick to class. This is so absurdly liberating, ya'll should try it.