Materialistic

It was M’s bridal shower this past weekend. And as much fun as it was, it was awkward. I hate all that girly stuff. The chit chat, the gossip, jibber-jabber-fake-what-the-fuck sort of talk. I never realized it.

I guess its not so bad when its just me, An, L, C, Ka, Kr, S J…the usual I guess…though that is more like two clicks combined into one…but whatever. Anyways, so put, M, B, and A together and I literally want to shoot myself. Don’t get me wrong, they are fun

“Omg have you seen so and so’s ring yet?”
“yes I did, and I don’t know, its really pretty, its xxxx-cut (whatever princess cut, oval or whatever the other descriptions are of whatever tiny rock sits on your finger) but it doesn’t shine it doesn’t glitter, I would say its about a carrat and a half”.
*weird look*
“yeah I know, I don’t know what to think about it”

Dude. Seriously? Who the fuck cares? I would like to know.

I hate that people can’t accept me for who I am. I am not a materialistic person. I choose not to be. There are way more things in life to admire, love, and care for other than the purse you are carrying, the shoes you are wearing, and the designer that made your dress.
I choose to wear clothes from non-high end stores. I choose to wear flip flops or converse. I choose to browse the sales rack before I move around the store. I choose to talk about what is going on around the world, what I plan on doing to make this place a better place as well as the good things that my friends and family are going through. You know, the every day things in life that matter.
So when I got asked why I wore what I wore. I wondered…why should what I wear matter? Why do my plaid shorts, polo and flip flops make a bad outfit? Why does my comfort not matter? It would be different it the said was said to me by some random person.
No.
It seems every opportunity you have you either ask me why I wore what I wore, or what I am going to wear. And regardless of my answer – which usually lies somewhere between “because I hate dressing up” and “because I can/want to” – I am almost always due in for one of your lectures that cover…“you need to look professional”, “you need to look nice” and “you need to learn to dress up missy”. It’s not until you utter “I am just looking out for you” that I wonder. Looking out to do what. To jump into a fist fight with someone who decides that I am not professional enough looking. To be quick to mouth back at someone to dares to whisper to a friend seated nearby asking about my reasons for wearing what I wear. I need you to accept me for who I am. You’ve known me for 6 years, I’ve been the same me since you met me and I am not going to change.
You may turn your head as you please, but
This is me
This is who I am
This is how I will damn well fucking dress.

Fuck you if you don’t like it.