On-brand you
Middle school was hard. Right? Middle school was just hard, for all of us. I think it’s because, all of sudden, things mattered. It mattered what brand shoes you wore. It mattered how smart you were. It mattered who you were friends with. There was no beauty in our differences yet, It was all conform. Conform, conform, conform. And to what? Being something and somebody you probably weren’t. Because, let’s be honest, thirteen year olds aren’t commonly renowned for their sense of self and confidence. 13 year old me I’ve been doing some unearthing and discovery around my 22 year old tendencies to conform. These days I feel the pressure, not to wear a certain brand of shoe, but to be a certain brand of woman. The kind of woman whose house is clean. Whose Michelin star level dinner is cooked. Whose tan hand is holding a cappuccino somewhere in Italy. Whose relationships are out-of-this-world romantic. A woman whose abs are as chiseled as her cheek bones. To be a woman whose life is full o
