Books

In Defense of Whimsy (and Fascinators and YA Fiction)

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I can’t open a new browser tab these days without seeing pieces about the way women are doing things wrong. From dressing to working to how we date, women just can’t seem to do anything right.

To which I say, stop.

Just stop! I am sick to death of women writing pieces about the ways in which other women should behave.

Part of this is self-defense. I am a… whimsical person. I think a sense of whimsy is an essential part of life. I occasionally catch myself dancing in public to the music on my iPod, I went on an Ikea date way before 500 Days of Summer came out and I might be throwing myself a fascinator-themed birthday party. I get tipsy when it’s inappropriate and while I may not wear rompers (you have to get naked to use the bathroom. I don’t understand the appeal), I do own a fair amount of glitter and really wish I could fill my world with kittens (but can someone else deal with the cat boxes?). I am a grown-up lady with a grown-up lady job, I read grown-up lady books and see grown-up lady movies, but I also love superheroes and a fair dose of young adult fiction.

It’s not being a type or insincere, it’s just who I am. And regardless of what it may bring, I believe staying true to myself is more important than what any dater or person on the Internet has to say about it (that’s not to say I don’t love people on the Internet. I learned it was okay to express who I am thanks to people on the Internet. People on the Internet, I LOVE YOU).

I realize that not every man I meet will love my quirks. And that’s okay! Because there are some guys out there with some super weird quirks of their own. In fact, until recently, I thought the only thing keeping me apart from Arthur Darvill is that we’ve never actually met (and his fame, and the distance and his live-in girlfriend). I was just biding my time until we’d randomly run into each other and fall instantly in love. But then I learned that he has a taxidermy collection. In his apartment. That’s the place that he lives. And eats. And sleeps. That’s just not for me. I’d be too worried that the animals would come back and haunt me! But there is a girl somewhere (likely the lady with whom he lives) that loves that. She’s into the souls of dead animals watching her while she smooches Arthur Darvill. Mazel Tov, lady I don’t know, I wish you, your taxidermy fascination and Arthur Darvill well.

Yes, there is an argument to be made that shouldn’t be horrible (unless you are a horrible person. In which case…), but more than anything just be yourself.

You are your own unique snowflake. Don’t change, little snowflakes, don’t conform. People will love you for it. And if they don’t, well, they will be haunted by the souls of Arthur Darvill’s dead animals.

Joy Engel lives and works in Portland, Maine where she tweets far too much and solves the occasional murder-mystery while riding around on a bicycle. Everything she writes is her personal opinion and does not necessarily represent the views of her employer or its clients.

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