Idiosyncratic. That’s a funny word. Idiosyncratic…sometimes I wish I could be a little bit less idiosyncratic. There’s something to be said for following the crowd, just a little bit. After all, it’s how humans ever got together in the first place; bonding over shared interests of having come from the same family, or not wanting to be eaten by elephants.
A lot of girls my age are into cosmetics, which is just what happens when you reach your late teens and people start referring to you as grown up. I’m trying to shake up my thinking, which has previously been ‘who’d ever want to go to one of those Melbourne dermatologists!’
For one thing, that’s just mean and unfounded. Actually, people who do dermatology are probably MORE likely to be less gross, because they know how to take care of their skin and such. I bet they’re all beautiful people, inside and out. So if that’s the case, what’s so bad about what they do? It reminds me of the time when we had our very first formal event in year 7. I was newly a teenager and trying really hard to be the lone wolf, mysterious and without any true friends. All the girls my age were excited about looking pretty, and I decided I was going to show up with my hair as bedraggled as possible, all goth makeup and kooky imagery. So they all came with their lip fillers and gloss and perfectly done hair, and there I was…as monstrous as possible. It’s taken me years to realise why that was wrong. I was ruining THEIR event.
Now, if someone asked me to go to a day spa or something…well, that doesn’t sound too bad. And if I wanted to go to some guy who does dermal fillers in Melbourne, or whatever…well, maybe I shouldn’t hate myself for it. My face, my choice, I say.