Where Do You Fall In The High Maintenance, Low Maintenance, IDGAF Lifestyle Brand?
It’s basically standard operating procedure in my family to call me high maintenance. I don’t really care. I’ve leaned into it even though I think it’s bologna. What some call high maintenance, I simply call having standards.
So I only drink specific types of bottled water, Pinot Grigio, basically only consume chicken for protein (hello, Chick Fil A! Call me! 😉) have a specific skin care regimen and wear only highly curated brands of makeup, jeans, shoes, jewelry, and handbags.
Oh, and don’t even ask me about my hair … God bless all the stylists I’ve ever had. It’s not easy and I warn them of this in advance! One gal before I allowed her to take m on as a client, I specifically said after I explained what I wanted and how I wanted my hair, “I would understand knowing all of this if you didn’t want to take me on as a client.” I was totally serious. Now I have a super fabulous gal!! Love her. Grateful to have her. However, if she tries to move to Chicago like the last bitch just to get away from me … (🤣🤣🤣🤣 okay, the other gal I loved really did move to Chi-town, but it wasn’t about me. That I know of. I’m pretty confident it wasn’t. We still talk. She’s super happy in her new town. I’m happy for her.)
Wait, I’ve lost track of what we’re discussing. Are we headed to Nordstrom? I have them on speed dial if you want to set up any personal shopping appointments or one on one time at the makeup counter. 😏
Back on the Maintenance Track
It’s occurred to me as I approach my 41st year on this earth, something so many before me have shared, as you age you stop caring what people think. I think I’m entering that era. It’s oddly unsettling. What will I do with all of my free time if I’m not using it to anxiously plan and prepare for how others will judge and misjudge me?!
Maybe I’ll finally launch some amazing product. I do have an idea. I told someone at the nail salon about it the other day (because of course I did; side effects of never shutting up) and she said if I ever launch this, she’d be my first customer! 🤣
I mean, whatever. Why does everyone have to be for the masses? I’m not for everyone. Big deal. I don’t wish to be. That doesn’t mean I want to be disliked, hated, or otherwise outcast, but I think it’s fair to be like, “Hey, there’s Heather. She’s got her own thing going on. I wish her well.”
We don’t have to be friends. We don’t have to be enemies. Do I have to try and assimilate and, therefore, in my opinion, lower my standards just to make sure I’m liked accepted, and otherwise part of the massive herd? It’s always been okay with me to have a small, tight group. In high school, I had one best friend. We were together constantly. I had some other friends who trickled in and out, but mostly it was just me and the BFF. It was perfectly okay with me.
This way of life still is.
Last week, my daughter and I flew from Indy to the Taylor Swift concert in Tampa. Taylor wore this hilarious shirt poking fun at herself and all the people who have hated on her.
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I felt a certain kinship with her at that moment. She’s had some bad blood, and feuds galore and you’d never know it if you looked around that Thursday night. Three evenings in a row she sold out a 75,000 stadium arena. Everyone in there was up on their feet dancing, singing along with her, and screaming her name. She’s not for everyone. I think that’s what makes her so special.
So, no matter what level of maintenance you require. Just be grateful you can rock it until the wheels fall off 🎤
(So, my web designer says I needed to include a bio, though I find this task silly because, if you’re here, you know me.)
I’m a writer. It’s what I do. It’s a cathartic mechanism when I need release from my anxiety. I’ve had blogs in the past; I’ve taken them down, but I never stopped writing. I simply can’t. My notes app is forever long as it’s filled with pages and pages of different topics. Sometimes I just write a few sentences. Sometimes I write paragraphs.
Recently, I've been writing long essays. My friends and others I hold dear have coaxed me into sharing my work again.
So that's what I'm doing, you wicked, pushy people. LOL
I have no desire to see my writing be anything more than an opportunity to share what I love doing most. I have no interest in this blog reaching the masses.
I thought it would be fun to call it My Spicy Disaster because that's often how I feel. A complete mess of epic proportion. So join me, if you'd like, and let's pretend we're not sitting amongst the chaos crying, but laughing instead.
Or maybe we do cry sometimes, but then wipe our tears and remember one person’s disaster is another person’s … well, who the hell knows …
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