(I wish I could put this little girl in my pocket and have her talk to people for me) 

We all wish we didn’t care about what other people think. Everyone says it, countless people wish it, but it’s one of the most difficult things someone can do. Imagine being able to live your life without giving a second thought as to what the guy next to you thought about your actions.  I can’t even get in the elevator without imagining the day I wear pajamas pants and no bra and I meet Dwayne Wade ( because he obviously lives in my building). While I can truly only speak for myself, I know that most people cannot go through life without worrying about how they are perceived by others. What will she think if I say this? I wonder if people think my outfit looks nice? Do I look fat? Does she like me? Will any guy talk to me at this party? Will he be upset when he realizes I’m not listening to him at all?

I’ve tried to make several declarations as of late to no longer care what any of you think. And if anyone knows me, they know how nearly impossible that is for me to accomplish. You see, I’m a sensitive person. I care a lot about what EVERYBODY thinks, even people I don’t like. I’m emotional, and I am just now embracing that as one of my attributes. I am the peacemaker, but I’m also a crier. But I don’t cry just when I’m sad, I also cry for other reasons. In addition to crying when my last boyfriend broke up with me, I also got misty when listening to my favorite Evanescence song, and when a woman was given a free house on the internet. I even cried once when someone scored a touchdown and did an obnoxious dance, because I was do damn happy. I know it’s weird, but that’s me.

Now that I’ve established myself as a slightly unbalanced individual, you might be able to understand a bit more as to why it’s so hard for to let go of other people’s opinions. We all know in the end, they don’t matter. Unless you’ve committed a crime, in this case, what a jury says matter. But if you’re not on trial, don’t put yourself on one ran by public opinion. As EnVougue once crooned, free your mind, and the rest will follow. Also, you probably shouldn’t be shallow or give a crap if you wear tight clothing.

I gave this “IDGAF” theory another try the other day when I contemplated how to dress for a concert. As a single woman, I am constantly trying to position myself to be in the best light to finally snag a man. This has often filled my mind, as opposed to simply being excited about my night on the town and being comfortable. Who has the time to be comfortable when you’re trying to get married? As I stared into my closet knowing I couldn’t fit any of my pants, I had this mind-blowing thought: what if I just wore whatever the hell I wanted, and not thought about what some random man thought about my outfit? WHAT A CONCEPT! After the trembling subsided, I decided to just go out as I pleased. My mind was now focused on enjoying my concert and finally getting my UBER app to work. Let’s see how this goes…

My outfit for the evening was a pair of cut-off boyfriend shorts and a t-shirt repping my hood ( please refer to my recent Corner Politics post). I didn’t put on makeup, and I even wore my glasses. I didn’t look like a hag, but I definitely felt comfortable and cool, and tried to just focus on that…

AND I HAD A BALL! Although I wasn’t concerned with impressing a guy, I felt good enough that if I was approached by someone, I wouldn’t feel self-conscious. I also wasn’t concerned about being unhappy if I didn’t meet a guy that night. I was too busy jumping up and down in front of the stage, trying to make sure my girls didn’t fall out ( it’s quite difficult). And even if that did happen, I probably wouldn’t have cared.

This whole “not giving a F” has started out slowly, but I have to take it one day at a time, and so should you. If you find this difficult to comprehend and apply to your life as I do, you have to sit down with yourself and think: Is it that big a deal if I don’t send out Christmas cards? Guess what- NO. Your friends and family will still love you and will not plot to shun you from the next family reunion. What is the point of caring if a person you cannot stand thinks you’re a bitch? You don’t like them for a reason, so they don’t even matter. Who cares if your texts messages are spelled wrong? Ok, I care, but that’s not a good example. So what if you don’t wear pants. Wait, ok, that’s probably not acceptable outside the confines of your personal dwelling, but basically I need you all to love your hot mess selves and not have a (unimportant) care in the world. In the words of my homegirl above, worry about yo’ self.


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