GAH!
Okay. Now that I've gotten that out of my system... is it just me, or are there way too many out people out there who are utterly enamored with the sound of their own voice? I don't know if this is something I've failed to notice before, but it seems as though the world is suddenly swamped with attention whores run amok. Are we just now seeing the products of working class parents who didn't have the time to hug their kids enough finally come of age? Or perhaps a generation of Sesame Street, Barney, and Mr. Rogers followers who took that whole "love yourself for who you are" thing just a weebit too far?
Being a part-time actor, I suppose it makes me a bit of a walking contradiction, but I was never one to cry out for attention. I'll stand in the aisle at the supermarket for a solid five minutes waiting for the person blocking my path to move before I mutter so much as an "excuse me." I'll wait until I'm practically bleeding out my eyeballs before I'll go to a doctor. If I'm wearing a top that shows even the slightest bit of cleavage and somebody comments on it, I'll spend the rest of the evening berating myself for dressing like a whore. Meanwhile, I dodge cranky shoppers who'd sooner mow me over than excuse themselves, listen to friends drone on and on about whatever ache, pain, or illness they've got lately, and watch girls who spend their evenings alternating between spilling out of their tops and stuffing themselves back in, all the while narrating about stuffing themselves back in. I try to keep moaning about my problems to a bare minimum and discuss them with very few people at that, and I find myself sitting silently and waiting for twenty minutes while those selfsame confidantes shoot me apologetic looks while taking phone calls from other friends who have no such reservations.
I'm pretty sure the biggest part of this whole thing is my own fault. By and large, I'm of the mindset that there's no use in sitting idly by and wishing for things - if you've got the power to do something, make it happen. If you don't, you're just going to make yourself miserable. You've really got no right being jealous of skinny people while you're stuffing your face with Big Macs. At some point you've got to ask yourself... is it worth it? Do I really want to be a size 2 if it means I have to spend my life in a gym and never get to indulge in a slice of pizza or a mug of beer?
Which begs the question... what's the drawback in being an attention whore? Constant doting from others? Getting free drinks at bars by showing a bit of leg? Cutting ahead in line at restaurants because the staff would rather deal with the silent resentments of the more patient patrons rather than hearing you complain? Come to think of it, it doesn't sound so bad, does it? Sure, you're going to get an awful lot of quiet seethers like me who are just going to hate you. But by nature, we're really not going to say anything about it. I've never cried to get out of a speeding ticket. I'll scour a department store looking for a stepstool before I bat my eyelashes at that 6' tall hot guy in the next aisle and ask him to get something off the top shelf for me. I'll choke down a meal at a restaurant cooked the wrong way rather than flag the waiter down and send it back. Similarly, I have a hard time dealing with histrionics. Unfortunately, it precludes me being friends with the sort of people who engage in them like it's an Olympic sport. Part of it is just me being incredibly bullheaded. The rest, I suppose, is some overabundance of dignity, and God knows where I picked that up, but I just can't seem to shake it. Funny how those who are in love with themselves have so little self-respect, and vice versa.
Like so many other things, it's all about balance. It's okay to send the food back if it's going to make you sick. It's fine to wear something that shows off your ::ahem:: attributes, so long as folks don't spend their entire evening wagering on your cup size. And hell, everybody deserves to whine a little bit if they're sick or brokenhearted. But those on the other end of the spectrum would do well to remember that if you're stranded at the side of the road in the middle of nowhere with a flat tire, batting your eyelashes and bursting into tears is not going to get you rolling again. So take a bit of seasoned advice from anyone who's ever had to suck it up and be their own hero: tuck your breasts back into your bustier, wipe your eyes, get your ass on the ground and get to work. As for me, I'm just going to have another bite of my Big Mac and keep my big mouth shut. For the most part.
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