My name is Marni and I'm not good at lifeing.
When I was in my teens, I really wanted to work at General Pants (I'm fucking old, sos). I wore cord pants and tied them up with shoelace belts, I ironed-on transfers of Pantera to my BONDS tees and had a skateboard with stickers of skate brands on it. Bergh. I was so try-hard it actually makes me physically ill to type this and now my OCD has required me to wash my hands brb... I'll never read that sentence again so, enjoy internet!
In the late 90's we were laying the foundations of what hipsters, I guess, would become. YOU'RE WELCOME, HIPSTERS. We invented not caring, okay. The problem is, I was a chronic over thinker with high level anxiety, OCD and self esteem issues: I was trying so hard to concentrate on seeming like I was not caring I fried my little brain.
Following this, I got to enjoy five years of PUBLIC EVENTS ON RED CARPETS. If you know the feeling of being at a party you're not really meant to be at, and you're wondering when they're gonna catch you and tell you to leave? This was my every day. I can't wear dresses, never could, I have ridiculously difficult hair, I didn't know what eyebrows were until 2014 and my body is less red carpet more "cool mum". I was a definite impostor and it felt like everyone knew it and was nailing this much better than I was.
Please see this lovely timeline:
I call this "where the hell are your eyebrows and that's not a hairstyle"
Gosh I can't even handle this. Next.
Someone let me pose like this and someone put it one the internet and that shits forever man and New Idea lovvveee this photo and print it in every story ever :/ THE INTERNET IS FOREVER.
The food at this event was amazing but I wouldn't know because I had to fit into this dress so couldn't eat. Also, did I do my make up in the dark? Likely.
Okay, no words. Whats this leg pop? Who am I, Rhianna? Just no.
This is acceptable: