Last night I found myself listening to Beyonce. Now prepare to throw rotten fruit at me when I say, I’m not the biggest Bey fan. I like her husband better, personally (HOVA!). And it isn’t because her songs aren’t catchy, and yes, you will absolutely see me backin’ it up to Drunkin’ Love, for sure. I just think her catchphrases linger around far too much and make me loathe the people that walk this Earth saying, “Surfboard,” in a strange voice and don’t happen to be in the ocean nor did they fill their tub up half way. Just sayin’.
But I found myself YouTubing the video for “Flawless,” last night because I needed a pick me up. Sometimes, when you’re feeling low and beaten down, all you need is a cocky, strong-ass bitch to pull you out of it. And when Cher wasn’t doing it for me, I turned to Beyonce.
God damn, God damn, God DAMN (see catchphrases, now I’m doing it) is that song crazy. Apart of me wants to stop her mid-strut and be like, “whoa whoa whoa, too big for your britches much?” And then another part of me wants to go all 90’s grunge, wear four inch stilettos, Merlot lips, and stand in the middle of a bunch of bad ass stylish ladies and say, “yeah bitch, I DO look so good tonight, thank you for reminding me, Bey. UP TOP :::high five” (Now do we think Beyonce gives high fives? I feel like that’s a no.)
I know this song is SO 2014, but it made me think about a little something called believing your own bullshit. I’m almost positive that Beyonce, once in a blue moon, stops herself during the day and goes, “holy fuck, I did NOT wake up like this,” as a team of professionals make her look PhotoShop chic. Now my friends will tell you, if they ever happen to drop me a compliment, “you look so thin,” “you’re worth more than that nonsense,” “wow, that outfit looks great,” I will more than likely thank them, but say, “bitch, please.” Because I, sadly, don’t believe my own bullshit. And that is a fatal flaw of mine.
Beyonce walks this Earth like she owns the damn place because she believes it. Oprah has a following of minions that would probably eat dirt if she put it on her “Favorite Things” list and labeled it “organic,” because she MAKES them believe her bullshit. Sure, we all have days, like I did last night, where we just want to crawl into bed and say, “you know what, you win, I’m out.” But no. Here and there, we deserve to boost about ourselves and stand up and say, “hell YES I look amazing today,” and “NO sadly … I’m not an ugly bitch, but thanks for thinking of me.”
True, I do think Beyonce is a little cocky. But hell, nowadays to sell your own personal brand (which ps. we all have, whether you like it or not) we need to do it with a little pizzazz (that word just isn’t used enough). And in order to do that, we need to believe our own bullshit. You think Pepsi sits in a corner like a meek little mouse and just prays to Jesus big bad Coke won’t smack the shit out of them? No. They get pre-K. Fed Britney Spears to dance half naked on a commercial during the Super Bowl chugging their beverage (still my all-time fave Pepsi commercial). Let’s pay homage shall we?
What I’m saying is, it’s okay to own up to the things that make you great, whether you’re an amazing athlete. Have a career that is booming out of control. Or just find yourself to be a genuinely nice human being who cares for the people around them immensely.
I’m very lucky to have people in my life who remind me daily to believe my own bullshit (even though it isn’t bullshit, but you know what I mean). The shit you’re afraid to say because you think people will see you as a cocky hot mess. Well I say, do it once a week. And I’m here to say, wind blowing in my hair, eyes peering from side-to-side, in a sparkly one-piece suit, Beyonce-style, own yours, too.
Here goes: I was voted the third best blogger, and #1 fashion blogger in Philadelphia. :::drops mic:::