I know that as of lately, it seems like I have taken a
disliking to the recently remodeled reality star, Farrah Abraham. I know that
I’ve been rambling on and on in previous, more recent blog posts about how she
is something of a monster. I know that I’ve commented on her plastic surgery
but to be fair, that’s only because it genuinely stuns me. (I mean, she looks
so much like Kim Kardashian now that it’s actually startling.) And honestly, so
does her behavior.
I wouldn’t call myself a Teen
Mom OG expert or any sort of legitimate behaviorist but you don’t have to
be Dr. Drew or Dr. Phil to realize that the way that Farrah Abraham talks to
people, really any people, anyone in her general vicinity, is nowhere near
appropriate. I know that a lot of what she does is probably instigated by the
producers at MTV and she’s probably scripted to be a total bitch to everyone
she comes across. (At least, I sincerely hope it’s an act. Because if she’s
really like that, I feel really sorry for the lonely existence she must
endure.) I also know that I’ve sat and actually read a bunch of #FarrahAbraham
tweets.
It’s going to sound crazy, and my sister used to always tell
me that I speak about celebrities like they’re my personal friends, but I’m an
equal opportunist when it comes to celebrities. Everyone is so quick to jump on
the “what do they have to complain about” bandwagon and honestly, just because
they’re famous doesn’t mean they’re not people. Just because their net worth is
upwards of 3.5 million dollars doesn’t mean that they’re unable to feel
emotions. (If you ask US Weekly,
they’re people who do regular things, just like US!) And something that I noticed with this whole Farrah
phenomenon, on Twitter especially, is that people are so quick to harp on her (probably
because she is a raging bitch who
kind of appears to have no feeling regarding anything) and say things like,
“The way Farrah talks to people is hard to watch,” or “I’m only sitting through
Farrah’s part to get to Amber Portwood’s part,” or even things like, “I don’t
know why Farrah Abraham even gets to still have a position on this show!”
And honestly, in this one moment (and one more moment
momentarily), I have to defend Farrah Abraham because do you want to know why
she’s still on the show despite being a terrible, miserable individual? Do you
want to know why she’s still paid exorbitant amounts of money by MTV to talk
down to people and make her mother cry? Because all of those people who claim
it’s “difficult to watch”, all of those people who say that her behavior is
disgusting, and that it’s unbelievable she is still employed by MTV are still watching. Ya’ll watch that shit
religiously and tweet about her, whether it’s good or bad and then sit there
and wonder, from your tiny smart phone, why Farrah Abraham still has a job.
Because people eat it up. For the same reason that people
had a love/hate relationship with Spencer Pratt and Kristin Cavallari. For the
same reason that people still Google Amanda Bynes, Lindsay Lohan, and Courtney
Love. Because all that crazy shit sells. Because it’s entertaining. (Listen, if
you’re like both my husband and me, and you have trouble sleeping, I want you
to do me this favor instead of binge watching Netflix. Go ahead and Google
Images Jocelyn Wildenstein. I promise, if you’re feeling bad about where you’re
at in life, you’ll feel much better
after this. You’re welcome.)
And although I could seriously fill the entire internet with
my apparent vast knowledge of celebrities and rich, bored New York City
socialites, I will spare you because not everyone is so heavily invested in
celebrity culture. And while it’s absolutely intoxicating and fascinating to me
personally, you’ve all got other things to do. The point of this week’s blog
isn’t to wow you with my extensive celebrity data but instead to share with you
my willingness to be a sassy, little spitfire.
I believe in strong
women. I believe in the woman who is able to stand up for herself. –C. Joybell
C.
I don’t know what it is about my personality that screams,
“TAKE ADVANTAGE OF ME!” I don’t know what it is about the way I treat people
that encourages them to talk down to me, urges them to think that I’m not
intelligent, and leads them to believe that I can so easily be manipulated. I
will say that as I’ve gotten older, I’ve gotten a lot better with being
assertive and holding my ground. But sometimes, I fear that my habit of finding
engaging in arguments undesirable leaves the impression that I either am too
timid to fight back, or too daft to realize I’m being manipulated. I worry that
sometimes my unlikeness to act like a wild animal makes me look weak or
pathetic, like I’m the type of individual that can be walked all over.
Here’s the thing, friends, and I’ve said this before: Just
because I don’t pull a Snooki and say, “Hold my earrings, please,” before I go
actually crazy on someone doesn’t mean that I put up with shit. Just because I
don’t react when animals scream at me on the road or cuss at me like I’m some
kind of prison inmate in the recess yard doesn’t mean that I back down when
people attempt to tough talk me. Unlike practically all of America, I don’t
engage in that kind of behavior. I absolutely refuse to communicate with
someone who is screaming at me like a caged cougar and will not lower myself to
that level. I don’t respond well to relentless tomfoolery. But it doesn’t mean
you can influence me or that I’m driven to any kind of fear by another person’s
erratic behavior.
I’ve grown up in an impulsive, loud, heavy drinking, and fun
loving Italian family, friends. I’m not scared
of anyone. In fact, my mom told me this story about when she was newly
engaged to my dad and his uncle was trying to figure out where my dad’s ex-girlfriend
lived so that he could drive a semi through her house. (This said ex-girlfriend
had stolen my dad’s car and apparently caused all kinds of problems for my
parents.) Now, I’m not saying that I condone any of that behavior. It was the
seventies and the majority of my dad’s family had minor mafia ties. I mean,
after all, I’m a social worker. I get paid to help people and meet them where
they’re at. But don’t get it twisted; I’m not a pushover and my niceness only
extends so far. But the difference between me and every lunatic on the street
is my anger is cold and calculated. I don’t yell and scream and jump across
tables. I don’t rip clothes and scream cuss words like some infant child
throwing a tantrum.
Because that’s just not safe and I don’t roll like that.
I won’t yell in your face or make a scene because that’s not
my style. But believe me, you’ll know I’m angry. And just because I keep my
fists to myself doesn’t mean that I am easily manipulated or almost certain to
lose in a fight. It means I don’t have time to act childish. It means I have
way too many amazing things going for me to go to jail because someone else is
an idiot. It means that I’m a lady and
real, classy ladies don’t throw wine
and rabid tantrums reminiscent of Brandi Glanville.
However, this is something to be said about a woman who is
confident enough to stick up for herself. And I’m not talking about women who
are clearly trouble, women who cuss like sailors (guilty, but I’m working on
it) and get in fist fights over a Black Friday giveaway. I’m not talking about
women who aren’t scared of anything. I’m talking about women who are just so
confident that they don’t care. They are seemingly untouched by any sort of
untruths or negative conversations because they are resiliently confident. No
matter what.
Enter: Farrah Abraham. I mean, I’ve got to be fair; she’s a straight-up
nightmare but I have to admit that I envy her confidence. The thing about Farrah
Abraham, and you can dispute whatever you want, is she owns everything. She isn’t at all fazed by
what people say about her, which is something that I have personally always
struggled with. And if something does hurt
her feelings, she doesn’t show it. She is incessantly armored and just continues
to ride through the nonsense until she’s completed whatever goals she’s set. And
despite all of the probably unneeded plastic surgery and repetitive breast
augmentations, she looks pretty darn amazing doing it. Yes, she is stuck up,
entitled, what I would deem as miserable and probably a little too retouched. But
no one can bring that girl down. And I’ve got to say that I really admire that.
The same could be said for Brandi Glanville. We all know
that I’m #TeamLeAnn all day, every day (I’ve even gotten in a minor Twitter
argument with some forty-year-old divorcee about it), but I’ve got to say that
I’ve never seen Brandi Glanville have a bad day. A DUI, maybe, and chronic
arguments on older seasons of The Real Housewives
of Beverly Hills but insecure? Apprehensive? A timid little weakling who
whines about some skinny bitch stealing her husband? Never. (I just want to add
a little side note here: If you haven’t read Brandi Glanville’s books, please
read them if you’re into celebrity reading. They
are absolutely hysterical.)
She didn’t struggle
and so she didn’t grow. –Paulo Coelho
One of my biggest pet peeves is how sensitive I am. I know
that it’s probably something that’s valuable, a trait that I should be proud of
rather than be annoyed by. It’s just that sometimes, I feel like my chronic
ability to take two seconds to care about something leaves me with the
likelihood of getting hurt. I take the things that people say extremely to
heart, especially if they’re people in my working environment or people that I
genuinely care about. I understand that it’s a good thing to be able to take
and listen to constructive criticism but I’m so easily molded by things that
people say to me.
I’ll give you a perfect example. I’m a social worker and I’m
employed by a company that is contracted by another company within child
safety. My basic job is to be a domestic violence “expert”, to provide
assistance and resources to clients who are in a domestically violent
situation. All of this is encompassed by child safety because the way we get
our cases is when child abuse reports are called in. I’m at the table to
provide information specifically about domestic violence, to build a parent’s
protective capacities through safety knowledge, and to provide support and
information on things regarding shelter, support groups, and any other relevant
resources.
Well, despite all of my extensive domestic violence
knowledge and willingness to grow within my field, I still have a personality. Despite
the fact that I actually went to college for social work (unlike some of the
people I work with) and literally did a six-month internship at a domestic
violence shelter where I learned an absolute ton of stuff, I still communicate with individuals that I’ve grown
comfortable with in a way that’s different from how I speak to clients. When
the lights go down and the phone hangs up, it’s only natural to only slightly
kick back, to interact with your co-workers and learn the inner workings of
their personal lives.
I’m not asking these people what their favorite sexual
position is; I’m asking them if they had a good weekend. I’m not asking them
where they like to get drunk the most; I’m asking them if they’ve been to any
good restaurants lately. I sometimes use informal language around these people
and say things like “perf” when I mean “perfect”, “obvi” when I mean
“obviously”, or “def” when I mean “definitely”. I say things like “You right,”
when I want to make it clear that I was incorrect and another person was right,
or “That’s cray,” when I hear an insane story about something someone saw
driving to work.
I don’t say these things because I don’t know how to speak
appropriately. I don’t say these things to sound like some stupid millennial
who has seen the inside of a college. I communicate in this manner because I
assumed I was comfortable with some of my co-workers. I use informal language
because I figured it was just as appropriate for me to say “perf” as it is for
other employees to inquire about how much the going rate is for horizontal
refreshments. (And that wasn’t a joke, friends. An employee actually came into
the room and closed the door before she asked what we all thought the going
rate was for a blow job.)
I’m not saying that communicating in this manner is one
hundred percent appropriate. I’m not saying that I feel like everyone should
speak so causally in the working environment. I’m just making the point that
this is what happens when people get comfortable in their surroundings. This is
what happens in an office full of people who are cooped up behind their
computers all day. Human interaction is normal and should be treated as such.
So naturally, when someone that I work with had this brand
of conversation with me, I was a little taken back. And it wasn’t just someone I work with, but someone whose
opinion I genuinely value; a woman who is perhaps the most elegant and
diplomatic individual I personally have ever met. I wasn’t in any kind of
trouble and the conversation wasn’t meant to embarrass me, but more to help me
grow professionally. I had originally inquired about what things I could do to
improve my performance and was curious if there was anything I was doing
inaccurately. And this is what she said (and I’m obviously paraphrasing because
I can’t recall exactly):
Shortening words is unprofessional, whether there are
clients in the room or not. (This was specified because I use a whole other
language when I communicate with clients. You guys probably wouldn’t even
recognize me!) While speaking in this “young person’s” dialect might be trendy
outside of work, it should probably stay out of the office. And using sayings
such as “You right” can be taken as culturally offensive. Essentially, she just
reminded me to be mindful of where I am, no matter who’s in the room. That
whether it’s a time to kid or not, you’re still in the working environment and
should communicate as such.
I’ve got to be real with you, friends: I can’t exactly say
that I disagree with what this woman was saying. I understand that this kind of
lingo probably just makes people look stupid. And although these people
obviously know that I’m qualified and intelligent enough to do this job, I
probably do shock them when I say things like “perf” and “adorbs”. It’s kind of
like that Sex and the City episode where Carrie is comparing Charlotte to the
Dalai Lama and then Charlotte looks at her and says, “Do you think my hair is
too shiny today...?”
But at the same time, I feel like it’s socially acceptable
to have a different face on when there’s not customers or clients around. Maybe
it’s not so appropriate to inquire about where you can get the best price for
fellatio but you should be able to open yourself up a little bit. That’s just
what people do. They make “friends” of proximity with the individuals they work
with because the reality is that you spend more time with them than you do your
own families. (Sheesh, that’s a terribly thought, isn’t it?)
The point of this whole story isn’t to prove to you that
I’ve seen too many Keeping Up with the
Kardashians episodes. (I’m still trying to explain to my sweet husband what
“Bible!” means because he thinks it’s the dumbest phrase in creation.) It’s to
help you grasp the fact that I’m tired of people thinking that I’m this
unintelligent, incessant reality television watching, MAC lip gloss slathering
millennial who very obviously doesn’t know how to speak appropriately. Honestly,
I think it’s a little unfair that I have to apparently quote Jane Austen in
order to prove that I’ve been to college and use words with more than three
syllables in order to show I read for fun. I shouldn’t have to pull a Jenna
Marbles and spend time crying over my secondary degree on my YouTube channel in
order to demonstrate that I’m intelligent and actually studied for the job I’m
employed in.
And regarding being ethnically or culturally insensitive? I’m
sorry but that is laughably ridiculous. Anyone who knows me knows full well that
I’m not a racist or even remotely close to
being culturally insensitive to anyone. I
have merely borrowed and adapted certain phrases because I like them, not
because I’m trying to be derogatory or deliberately hurtful. And quite
honestly, and in the spirit of my newfound spitfire existence, I can’t help but
wonder if the individual asking about blow jobs in the workplace was thought to
be culturally offensive.
Moral of the Crazy: When
I was still working at Victoria’s Secret, I worked with this amazing woman. She
was married with two boys, and a little bit older than me, although it never
really felt like that. She was always extremely pleasant to be around and
shared lots of stories from her life with me. I usually just listened because
she had lived a way more exciting life than I had. I was still in college, way
before I got into social work school, and I spent all of my free time going to
hot yoga and getting pedicures with my girlfriends.
One of my favorite things about this woman, and something
that I’ll never forget as long as I live, is that she used to always call me “a
little spitfire”. To be truthful, I never really saw myself the way she did but
I always wanted to. I always had this complex about hurting people’s feelings
and was always bending over backwards to be nice to people. And because of
this, I found that a lot of people felt they could take advantage of me.
But this woman, she saw something completely different in
me. She knew I was nice and a good person, otherwise she probably wouldn’t have
hung out with me, but she saw a little spark somewhere in there. She saw a
woman that people couldn’t take
advantage of, a person who wouldn’t back down from an argument, and someone who
was confident enough in her own skin not to give a shit what other people
thought about her. And you know, I have to say, all these years I’ve remembered
her saying that and all these years I’ve attempted to live up to it. I’ve
always loved that she saw that in me.
I admire women who are able to somehow stand up for
themselves even when literally everyone is against them. For example, when
someone throws a sarcastic quip at Farrah Abraham (and I’ll stick with that
example since it seems to be working) she is incessantly unfazed. She only
seems to have the time for comments that are encouraging and progressive to her
image. All the other nonsense just gets disregarded. And that’s what I have to
say is kind of an awesome quality about her. I wish I had the confidence to not
ever be bothered by another person’s commentary.
I would like to say that as I’ve gotten older, I’ve felt
myself get stronger. When I was much younger, I had this instant burst of
independence and strength because I had left my domestic violence relationship
but then once things went on an upward swing for me, it’s almost like I lost
some of my fire. I didn’t have to fight with my significant other or
relentlessly defend myself so maybe, in a way, some of that fire burned out. Maybe
I calmed down a lot because my life became so much calmer.
But then after married life settled in and I didn’t have
what some would deem as “trouble at home”. I started to realize that the further
I extended my niceness with my friends and co-workers, the more people began to
take advantage. My husband would always tell me (and still does, actually) that
I’m far too agreeable and accommodating to the individuals I associate with and
that’s why they incessantly exploit me. Sometimes I would argue with him, stating
that he just gives up on people the moment that they make him angry so he
couldn’t possibly understand.
But then, I began to appreciate what he was saying. Sure,
being used and victimized by people that are supposed to care about you can
hurt but being manipulated is what brought out the Farrah Abraham in me. All of
this circles back to making me look incompetent, alluding to the idea that I’m
too goddamn dense to realize that the people I associate with are extorting me or
jumping on the chance to play me for a fool. And after thirty years of that
kind of nonsense taking over my life and raising my anxiety levels, I finally
got sick of it.
It’s a work in progress, friends. It’s not something that’s
happening overnight. (It helps to have a husband who is sarcastic, bitter and
unwilling to take anybody’s shit.) The truth is that there are still a lot of
people who try to manipulate me, keep me on lock down, and maybe, in a way, put
me in what they believe should be my place. But the reality is that those
people are always going to be there, whether I shut it down or not. Someone is
always going to come around and try to rain on your parade and if you don’t
pack a serious umbrella, you’re going to get wet.
One of the things I’m working on really diligently is
asserting my dominance, both in my personal world and my professional one. I
don’t want to be labeled as a bitch, but I want people to know that if I’ve got
to break out my sassy undertones, I’m not afraid to do it. I want people to
know that despite whatever is believed by anyone, I am fiercely intelligent and I’ve got the University of South
Florida Honor’s Society sash from graduation to prove it. I also want people to
know that if I’m friendly and considerate to you, it’s out of courtesy. It’s
something extended to you because I think it’s valuable to be a generally
pleasant person. It’s not something that I have
to do. Because quite frankly, aside from my family and my husband, I don’t owe anyone anything.
I’m always ending these blogs with phrases like, “Be good to
yourselves,” and “Be good to each other,” because the reality is that
everyone’s got a story. And while I still wholeheartedly believe that, I’ve got
to add this caveat to an old standard:
Be good to people and be good to each other. Because it’s
true, everyone has their own story and their own struggle. They may look
pristine but Lord only knows what kind of cracks are lurking beneath the
surface. But as for being good to yourself, as for treating yourself with the
respect that you deserve and the respect you should be commanding from others,
remember this one thing: Don’t let anyone treat you the way you wouldn’t treat
yourself. Don’t let anyone walk all over you, attempt to manipulate you, or
treat you like some sort of subpar human being.
Because at the end of the day, you’re all you’ve got.
Because at the end of the day, the only one that truly knows how you feel is
you. The only person that understands your story from beginning to end is you.
Because the only individual who isn’t going to intentionally hurt you is you.
Because like they say, if you don’t love yourself first, no
one is ever going to spot that fire inside you.
A simple, Southern
way to say “kiss my behind”, politely tear you apart with “Sweetie, bless your
heart”. –LeAnn Rimes, Spitfire
Follow me at my twitter page @thatcrzk8 for more updates and
rants about my neurotic abnormalities and celebrity obsessions. Be sure to subscribe
to my up and coming YouTube channel to stay up to date on the things that grind
my gears, specials about domestic violence awareness, and reasons I love my South
African, jerky making husband! Videos to come soon!
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