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Broke Wife, Big City
BREAKING NEWS:
White girls love fall
By Aprill Brandon
I don’t know who the first white girl was to publicly declare how much
she loves fall, but if I ever find that idiot, I’m going to strangle
her with the string from my totally comfy Urban Outfitters hoodie.
She’s ruined everything for the rest of us.
Everything.
Because now, thanks to her and all her idiot friends, the new national
pastime is making fun of white girls who love fall.
Oh sure, you could argue (and you would, in fact, be correct in arguing
this) that us white girls brought it on ourselves. What with our “first
Pumpkin Spice Latte of the season!” selfies and our daily “Finally time
for boots and leggings! Squeeeee!” Facebook posts. Our mid-June tweets
of “Is it fall yet? #ugh #readyforsnuggleweather”. Our arty Instagram
of a lone red leaf held up against one of our eyes while we coyly look
up and to the left with the other eye.
So yes. Yes, on some level we deserve this ridicule.
But ultimately, making fun of ALL the white girls who love fall is not
OK. Because, one, us white girls have feelings. Lots and lots of
feelings. That we have to tell you about. All the time.
So please, don’t make us have any more feelings.
And two, we’re not all like that. For instance, I love fall. I also
happen to be a white girl. But I am not a white girl who loves fall.
And yes, it is an important distinction.
Do you think this Aprill spelled with two L’s wants to be lumped in
with all the Britanni’s spelled with an “i” and Megyn’s spelled with a
“y”? That I want to wear vintage T-shirts featuring books I’ve never
read or bands I’ve never listened to underneath my infinity scarf (an
infinity scarf that is just one of the 67 in my collection)?
Do you think I want to race to my closet as soon as September 1st
arrives and pull out my vintage sweater while wrapping both of my hands
around a mug of green tea and sighing contentedly while I look out a
window? Or that I want to curl up with a good book and read all day as
soon as the temperature drops below 70?
Do you think I want to spend hours scouring Pinterest for fall-themed
craft ideas; ideas that I will never, ever do but nonetheless share on
social media like I totally did do them? Or that I want to eat only
gourd-flavored baked goods for every meal for the next three
months?
No. No, I don’t. I don’t want to do any of this. I don’t want to be a
part of this cliché.
But I do. And I am.
I wasn’t raised this way. I was raised in a home where hoodies were
merely something you threw on when it got cold, where coffee was
something you drank black, where fall was simply just another season.
My mom didn’t own Ugg boots or oversized, non-prescription, black frame
glasses. No one in my family drank beer that was any flavor other than
beer. The only candles that burned inside our house were birthday
candles.
Do you think when I was a little girl growing up in the 90’s, wearing
my torn flannel shirt and my purple lipstick with my Nirvana CD
blasting from my gigantic boombox, that I dreamed of someday becoming
that white woman who lights 43 pumpkin candles on chilly nights and
asks her husband to cuddle on the couch in their “jammies” while they
watch a “Girls” marathon on HBO?
No. Hell no. That little girl would kick my ass with her Dr. Marten
boots if she knew what she became.
But I just can’t help myself. I don’t know if it’s nature or nurture.
If I was brainwashed by the powerful pumpkin farmer lobby in Washington
or if Eve herself made an apple scented candle with the forbidden fruit
before she took a bite and then knitted a cozy sweater out of fig
leaves.
All I know is that, as much as I try to fight it, I love all this fall
crap. And now, courtesy of Brittani and Megyn and Jyssycah, I am the
butt of several thousand Internet jokes.
So thanks a lot, ladies. You just couldn’t keep quiet, could you?
Couldn’t just let us white girls continue to worship this time of year
secretly in the privacy of our own homes. Had to blast it out all over
the Interwebs, complete with winky faces and penguin emoticons (even
though PENGUINS have absolutely NOTHING to do WITH FALL!).
I swear to God, I’d throw this Starbucks’ Pumpkin Spice Latte in your
faces…
…if only it didn’t taste so good.
…(Sip)…
Can’t get enough of Aprill? Can’t wait until next week?
Check out her website at http://aprillbrandon.com/
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