So sometimes I can be a bit of a hypocrite. It doesn’t happen so often now, but bouts of dramatic opinion switches used to run rampant in my mind back in the day.
Like in sixth grade when Destiny’s Child had just released their single, “Lose My Breath” on the radio. For some reason I totally despised that song. Was it the repetitive panting that so greatly turned me off to the number? Or merely feelings of inadequacy that I could not, in fact, keep up? We may never know.
But let’s go ahead and cut to less than two weeks later when my friend makes me a mix CD with said song on it and I am bumping and grinding to it er’day. I have the verses memorized. I’ve been playing it on repeat.
I’m like a fucking meme. You can call me Hypocrisy Girl. “Hates Destiny’s Child” (insert judgmental picture of me with the words “two weeks later” superimposed) “Destiny’s Child is my favorite band, guys.”
Sometimes I hate myself a little.
Then there was my hatred of skinny jeans, which I’m sure is hilarious to anyone who’s known me since I’ve come to college. When skinny jeans became a thing my junior year of high school they were the bane of my existence.
Why would girls wear such unflattering pants? Didn’t they know these jeans made their hips look wide? Yet even then, I was exploring the realm between bell-bottoms and boot cut, coming up disappointed and wearing sweat pants.
Then I got the fringy, ankle-high moccasins I’d been asking for that Christmas. For those of you that are unaware (males), wearing any kind of shoe that extends beyond the lower tibia region is rendered useless by non-skinny jeans.
Yes, one can try to make it work by wrapping the flaring end of your jeans tightly around your leg and tucking them in, but more often than not this merely results in uncomfortable jean chunks attempting to make hollows in your ankle while also looking really dumb.
So I bought my first pair of skinny jeans and never looked back. It was about this time as well that I began to truly embrace my gratuitously berthed hips and resigned myself to the fact I would have to date men who like women with curves. Now, I don’t wear jeans often, but when I do, they are skinny.
I don’t even want to get into the leggings debacle of ’09. I’m never giving those up. NEVAR. Leggings are just too damn comfortable.
However, one of my biggest turn-around topics did not happen until two Octobers ago. I cringe to say it, but I once thought Twitter was stupid (shudders).
I had been under the impression, like some are now, that Twitter was merely a place for people to update you about what they were doing throughout the day.
@some_1: Going for a run!!
@some_1: Getting Jamba Juice after a hard workout.
@some_1: g2g shower now, k tnx.
Unfortunately this is still true for some users who think their followers want constant updates about the trivial matters of their day—this is why those people only have 50 followers.
Anyway, I hated hard on this social media device without ever trying it. Then one week I attended two “Dinners On Wisconsin” networking events for students going into the strategic communication field where the hosts told us over and over again how important a role Twitter played in getting a job.
All I could think was: OMG I AM GOING TO BE JOBLESS AND DESTITUTE, MUST MAKE TWITTER IMMEDIATELY. Surprisingly, it turns out my overreaction worked out for the best.
I did make a Twitter account immediately, and for the first few months it remained seldom used as I figured out that whole conflabbed tweeting thing. This was October. Yet by the time March rolled around, I had realized Twitter is less a bunch of status updates and more a far-reaching repository for all the things I usually think to myself or mutter awkwardly to no one in particular.
Needless to say, the commonality of talking to myself has reduced tenfold, though has not diminished completely. Now I seem only semi-schizophrenic.
Not only that, but Twitter is also a great self-esteem booster, mainly because of the punctuation it uses when delivering the good news of someone interacting with you. “So-and-so retweeted one of your tweets!” “This person favorited one of your tweets!” “What’s-her-face mentioned you on Twitter!”
They did?! Someone thinks I’m funny and/or relevant?! People want to talk to me! I cannot stress this enough: Punctuation matters, guys.
Twitter is also great to get the latest news updates or hear about new music before anyone else, but these are just added perks. It’s also a great networking tool (I got the interview that led to my last internship from interacting with the business on Twitter, just sayin’).
Before I start sounding like a spokesperson for this truly wonderful and revolutionary social media tool though, I’ma let me finish.
Yes, it is true; I am, at times, a hypocrite. But more often than not, my large shifts in judgment stem from an influx of information and a willingness to change my mind rather than stubbornly sticking to my guns.
If that’s still hypocrisy, then I welcome it with open arms. Sometimes it’s okay to veer from your original thought process when it means you’ll be happier in the long run.
“Starts column claiming she’s a hypocrite” (“900 words later” superimposed over judgmental face) “Guess I’m just open minded, guys.”
Do people think you’re a flip-flopper as well? E-mail Jaime at jbrackeen@wisc.edu to join forces with her (and Romney while you’re at it) and defend your ways.
