Picky Picky

by theobfuscatedone

I’m picky.  About everything.  Clothing, politics, makeup, food, people, sheets- For every thing in the world, I have expectations for it.  In many cases, my expectations are impossibly high.  The only way my expectations could be fulfilled is if each and every thing were tailor made for me, to my exacting specifications.  Obviously, this doesn’t usually happen (though thanks to etsy.com, it can happen with much more frequency.)

This morning I was exploring the internet and decided to look at some underwear.  You probably already know (because I’ve mentioned it several times) that I have a thing for absurd underwear.  It is the one article of clothing that I enjoy having slogans pasted on (who can say no to undies with the word “More Awesome Than You!” on the ass?  Certainly not me.), dyed acid bright colors, and pointless design features like ruffles on the butt.  Despite my general anything goes approach to underwear, I still have trouble finding ones I like and will buy.  Why, you might ask?  Because the ruffles can only be on the butt.  Because I like a specific fit that not many companies produce.  Because I like pithy and/or stupid slogans but hate stereotypical ones (you will never find me wearing ANYTHING that has the words “juicy”, “sexy”, or “bride” [if/when that day comes] on the ass.)  Since I really dislike settling for only ok, when whatever company I have been buying from for the past several years stops making my favorite style, the search for new underwear is protracted and angst ridden.  This goes for everything else in my life as well.

I have yet to determine whether having such high expectations is a good or bad thing.  In many ways it means that by not settling, once I find something I love, I am ecstatic because of how long and arduous the search was.  Once I find the perfect whatever, I am devoted to it and every time I wear it, eat it, see it I am thrilled to no end.  By not settling I avoid relationships with people who I only like.  Being surrounded by a few friends whom I love dearly is infinitely better than having a gaggle of “friends” whom I frequently wish would fuck off.

Now that I am writing this, I am realizing that perhaps my high expectations are not a totally negative thing.  Sometimes they are, there’s no doubt about that, but looking at them from a more objective distance shows that my high expectations result in more appreciation on my part once they are met.

And now…

the first word that springs to mind is baleful.)”]

 

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