Updated: Jul 13, 2020
Deciding to be Creative Designer of Pretty Gritty, a brand that I just made up established myself, has been quite the process for an innovative introvert such as myself.
I was travelling when I came up with this title. It was based on my constant nagging and pedantic thinking of "this isn't good enough" or "it will never do."
It was an inside joke with myself. Rushing out the door wondering if my make-up looked okay, or did I pack my bag correctly, you name it, 'funny story it's going to do' came up.
Bristol, United Kingdom.
I have tried and continue to try many techniques of trying to 'loosen up' and 'remove the stick that is so far up my uptight butt I may as well be a chicken skewer' with temporary success.
I have the "Just Pretend You're Drunk" technique, mostly for dancing, I really can't dance and rarely enjoy it.
The "Just Pretend You're Someone Else" method. First discovered in Uni when I thought I couldn't write an essay but Holly Campbell could because, even though she looked just like me her hair was always tied up and she had slightly better handwriting.
But maybe, what if, I just did something instead of worrying about doing something?
The concept of Pretty Gritty has been 25 years in the making. Having always desired to fit in but somehow still missing that key ingredient that makes one seem ‘normal’; I always fumbled over identity, settling instead for average or better yet, unnoticeable.
Since my first job in retail 10 years ago I have worked in hospitality, marketing, aged care, office administration and customer service. Not to mention all the years of babysitting and picking up odd jobs around the town. I'm an exceptionally hard worker.
My resume is a happy, eclectic mess and I cannot convey everything I gained from each of my jobs accurately. The compassion and personal interest I have gained from working are not quantifiable. But here and now lying in my bed I struggle to picture myself in any of those workplaces.
I attended a party recently and felt disappointed that the photos taken were not perfect. But then I had the thought not only was it downright boring of me to think so low of myself, but how dare I hate something that represented such a fun and happy time. When I'm eighty years old and looking back at those old photographs would I feel the same way? Maybe in my next life I won't be so meticulous. That would be a treat.
So inevitably I'll hit my familiar slump and think why bother? over and over again or maybe it will just get easier for me to accept that some stuff is going to do. And maybe that stuff is actually downright fantastic and I'm just kind of a dick to me.
Just chill. Don't be a perfectionist all the time.