Thank you for the reminder that the trivial things (like flatironing your hair) usually become big things when you neglect the actual big things inside you.
I read this piece while eating breakfast, and really, there should be a safety advisory. I almost aspirated my toast three times because it's very hard to laugh that hard while eating.
I made it halfway through the NYT article, paused briefly, thought, "She's gotta be a Substack. I must subscribe immediately." This was a *great* read (both the NYT article & this one). Feeling an impending personal breakthrough over here. :)
It feels as though you know my deepest fears and insecurities. I wasn’t a hipster, but a self-proclaimed nerd, with no time or patience to deal with all the idiots surrounding me. Inside, just a broken, scared girl just wanting to be loved.
Love that one of the comments on the NYT piece, by Libby in Chicago, was this: “Love this writer! You are Sophie Kinsella on steroids! You go girl. Please write a book. YOu are sooo talented! I would buy your book inan instant. Love your prose. Thank you!”
Adorable enthusiasm. I don’t know how to reply to Libby and tell her that this “girl” has written multiple books for her to pick up!
I think the only thing I disagree with here is that it shouldn’t be assumed the Perfect Girl Next Door is infallible and doesn’t have any problems just because she is “perfect.” Some of the hottest people I have ever known have had the deepest issues. When people assume you are perfect, you are not allowed to be authentically anything but. And in that way you and the Perfect Girl Next Door are the same person, you just authentically show your cracks because you can and have learned to.
Nice take. Mattering? Contemplate the actual possibility of earth being struck by a comet and ‘mattering’ will assume its appropriate position in the cosmos for sure. Meanwhile you can enjoy the warm sunshine.
Loved the NYTimes piece! I had to subscribe. Your writing voice comes through so clearly and I look forward to reading more of your work.
Your piece reminded me of my former neighbor, Heather. (I’m not talking to you there; her name was Heather.) :-)
She was younger than me, an art student with a gift for jewelry design; a boho, breezy girl who will always have long hair.
She date a guy in a regional rock band, who paid all her bills. Then she married a lawyer who paid all her bills. She became a mom (she is fabulous at mothering), later left the lawyer after ten years and then married someone who seems to be a nice guy and who also pays all her bills.
She shared all her secrets with me, which tends to happen in my life. We are still friends, but she keeps me at arm’s length, probably because I know too much. She has flaked on me so many times that one time she made her husband drive her and her baby through a blizzard because she said she “just couldn’t cancel on you again.”
The last time I saw her in person, it was to deliver a painting I had completed that she loved. She made the lawyer buy it for her and we spent the day together, along with her darling 4-year-old. It was a day worth waiting for — being in her aura is delightful.
We texted a few years back, and she told me she’d left the lawyer and was now with the nice guy, that she was about to take a shower and she would call me in 15 minutes. Of course, she flaked.
I read this Sunday in the NYT. It's wonderful writing. I try always to focus on what really matters and what's really nothing. I remember my grandmother telling me that all that glitters is not gold. Thanks, Polly.
"Being stubborn about trivial things is sometimes a way of protecting yourself from acknowledging far more important things that you want but can’t admit to wanting."
Not going to lie, I opened this one because I hoped “show yourself” would turn into a Frozen 2 reference, which is deeply uncool, but here we are. Thanks Polly. 💛
Thank you for the reminder that the trivial things (like flatironing your hair) usually become big things when you neglect the actual big things inside you.
Very good way to start my Sunday! Thank you for what you do!
Just read your NYT piece, poignant and hilarious, loved it.
I read this piece while eating breakfast, and really, there should be a safety advisory. I almost aspirated my toast three times because it's very hard to laugh that hard while eating.
I made it halfway through the NYT article, paused briefly, thought, "She's gotta be a Substack. I must subscribe immediately." This was a *great* read (both the NYT article & this one). Feeling an impending personal breakthrough over here. :)
It feels as though you know my deepest fears and insecurities. I wasn’t a hipster, but a self-proclaimed nerd, with no time or patience to deal with all the idiots surrounding me. Inside, just a broken, scared girl just wanting to be loved.
{sigh}
Thank you for seeing me.
Love that this is blowin up on the NYT...
Love that one of the comments on the NYT piece, by Libby in Chicago, was this: “Love this writer! You are Sophie Kinsella on steroids! You go girl. Please write a book. YOu are sooo talented! I would buy your book inan instant. Love your prose. Thank you!”
Adorable enthusiasm. I don’t know how to reply to Libby and tell her that this “girl” has written multiple books for her to pick up!
I think the only thing I disagree with here is that it shouldn’t be assumed the Perfect Girl Next Door is infallible and doesn’t have any problems just because she is “perfect.” Some of the hottest people I have ever known have had the deepest issues. When people assume you are perfect, you are not allowed to be authentically anything but. And in that way you and the Perfect Girl Next Door are the same person, you just authentically show your cracks because you can and have learned to.
Nice take. Mattering? Contemplate the actual possibility of earth being struck by a comet and ‘mattering’ will assume its appropriate position in the cosmos for sure. Meanwhile you can enjoy the warm sunshine.
Your nyt essay is the exact kind of beauty writing I wish for the culture and for media :)
Loved the NYTimes piece! I had to subscribe. Your writing voice comes through so clearly and I look forward to reading more of your work.
Your piece reminded me of my former neighbor, Heather. (I’m not talking to you there; her name was Heather.) :-)
She was younger than me, an art student with a gift for jewelry design; a boho, breezy girl who will always have long hair.
She date a guy in a regional rock band, who paid all her bills. Then she married a lawyer who paid all her bills. She became a mom (she is fabulous at mothering), later left the lawyer after ten years and then married someone who seems to be a nice guy and who also pays all her bills.
She shared all her secrets with me, which tends to happen in my life. We are still friends, but she keeps me at arm’s length, probably because I know too much. She has flaked on me so many times that one time she made her husband drive her and her baby through a blizzard because she said she “just couldn’t cancel on you again.”
The last time I saw her in person, it was to deliver a painting I had completed that she loved. She made the lawyer buy it for her and we spent the day together, along with her darling 4-year-old. It was a day worth waiting for — being in her aura is delightful.
We texted a few years back, and she told me she’d left the lawyer and was now with the nice guy, that she was about to take a shower and she would call me in 15 minutes. Of course, she flaked.
I hope you go read the comments on your NYT article. People LOVED it, including a bunch of self professed old men!
I read this Sunday in the NYT. It's wonderful writing. I try always to focus on what really matters and what's really nothing. I remember my grandmother telling me that all that glitters is not gold. Thanks, Polly.
"Being stubborn about trivial things is sometimes a way of protecting yourself from acknowledging far more important things that you want but can’t admit to wanting."
Wow. This morning's food for thought.
Not going to lie, I opened this one because I hoped “show yourself” would turn into a Frozen 2 reference, which is deeply uncool, but here we are. Thanks Polly. 💛