The Girl Who Farts In Yoga Class

I will always be the girl who farts in yoga class. I will always be the girl who folds origami bow-ties out of dollar bills when she’s nervous about talking to a guy at a bar—origami out of other people’s tip money.  I will always be the girl who will be uncomfortable with friends who look (and act) like they’ve walked out of the CW, making us not really friends at all. I will always be the girl who silently listens and nods to her not really friends ramble on about their insanely hot bodies and boyfriends. I will always be the girl who feels like she would rather sink through the floor than be in a room full of people whom she knows wouldn’t think more than twice if she died that very moment. And I’m always dying—aren’t we all? A little more every day.

I look around and all I can see are fakes and frauds. People who are so unhappy with their lives that they lie about it on social media or gauge their day on how many text messages they got in an hour. How did we become a generation who lived so little, but dreamed so big? Who spent more time counting Instagram likes than counting friends we’d actually enjoy grabbing coffee with? How did I spend so much time running away from high school, only to still be stuck in an adult high school life?

I will always be the girl who doesn’t fit in; who never gets the guy; who hides behind her funny jokes and relates to Mindy Kaling. But you know what? I’m happy. How many of those other fakes and frauds out there can call themselves that? I only give my time and energy to people who would do the same for me. When I stay quiet in a crowd, it’s because I really don’t have anything in common with the crowd; and don’t really care to.

The best part about not fitting in is that we don’t have to conform to anything that makes us feel less than. We don’t have to care about people who wouldn’t bat an eye at us if there wasn’t anything in it for them. We can listen to our favorite Taylor Swift songs, watch documentaries on Orca whales and wear our favorite “Life is Good” pajamas to bed. We’re not “them” so why try? I will always be the girl who farts in yoga class next to the perfect, lithe, shirtless yogi next to me. But I will also be the girl who will have the best story to tell in the end.