Why are we either the "Good Girl", or the "Party Animal", and why can't we be both?!
10:03
My whole life, I’ve been the “good girl”. Go
ahead, insert various synonyms here: *yawn yawn yawn*, nerd, geek, goody two shoes, pleb, boring,
teacher’s pet, quiet, distant, arrogant, workaholic, perfect(ionist)…As you can
probably see these range from the relatively accurate (yes, I do have
workaholic tendencies), to the faintly humorous (mental health professionals
will later replace your image of me as “perfect” with the term perfectionistic
– the latter a million times more accurate), to the actually quite insulting!
Some may say I never really learnt the meaning of “living dangerously”, for the
mere thought of getting caught terrified me and house parties weren’t exactly
my scene (not because I was too prim and proper to attend, but actually because
I never got invited). Whilst I may not have broken the law, or raided my
parents’ alcohol cupboard, my “living dangerously” just took a different form:
my “living dangerously” was with percentages and UMS points, and the punishing
rituals that followed any so-called “failure”. Despite that, and for what it’s
worth, I don’t regret being “the good girl”. It’s a role I’ve played my whole
life, a script I’ve learnt by heart, and actually, that’s okay. But here’s the
thing that does get to me: I might be “a good girl”, but why does that
automatically negate the slightest possibility that I could like to have a good
time just as much as the next person?! Let me tell you something my experience
of a Russell Group uni taught me: crushed ice melts the same whether it’s in
double vodka or a Costa caffeine hit
“But is it really worth the risk?!”
Okay, okay, to be a “party animal” one must
take risks…for an undoubtably tame taster, think ‘90s chic flick style sneaking
out the bedroom window and shimmying down the drain pipe, taking a different
outfit to change into as soon as you’ve escaped father’s disapproving glare, pocket
mints galore, and the old-faithful, “yes, of course I’m staying at Alice’s”, oh
and the general assumption that your parents were both born yesterday and never
young...
Admittedly, my risk-taking risk levels leave a lot to be desired; the word “risk”
has indeed had me running for the hills in my bubble wrap: “hello, I’m Yasmin
and I didn’t learn to ride a bike until I was 8, because I refused point blank
to get on one out of fear of falling off…at 8 my parents put their foot down
and mine up”. That said, surely every group of raging risk takers, you know,
those living life “on the edge”, could do with a “slightly” cautious risk
advisor…the one who weighs up the potential distance of the fall?!
Collaboration is indeed key, and I’m beginning to see “good girl” and “party
animal” as the new duo.
The fine line of pulling “it” off
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| Girl loves her coffee shop studying... |
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| ..but also likes large wine glasses..."it's all good because it's sugar free" |
Now, actually only in writing this did it
occur to me that maybe, just maybe, the “party animal” figure and the “good
girl” stereotype aren’t actually that far apart. For one, both acts take practice. For two, both acts are perfected over time. Take your Lower Sixth party
girl, who swears she only lives for the weekends, and who has all the older
friends, already free from school life, the ones who know the bouncers and hold
the fake IDs (the fake ID said girl flashes oh so well come Saturday night),
she treads the fine line of pulling that "pretending to be a whole other person" off pretty damn
well. Now take the “nerd”, the girl who actually spends her free periods, god
forbid, studying, the girl who wears her tie above the V and her skirt below the
knee, the girl who is both top of the class, on the athletics team, and in the
choir; this is a balancing act, it’s tiring and, at times, far from glamorous.
Now, look at the two and tell me that there isn’t a similar level of
determination, perseverance, focus and sheer belief in the ultimate outcome?!
Misunderstood? Mean Girl worthy Mumbling?
And whilst we’ve got our two stock figures
lined up before us, so polorised and yet strikingly not so dissimilar as their
rapidly applied labels suggest, let’s just consider that maybe life isn’t quite that black and white!
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| Partying at Big Weekend... |
From the "party girl" who was once admired for being “so grown up”, but whose fall from grace labels
her a “slut”, to the "good girl" who was always soooo polite and the girl your
parents looooved, but who, when push came to shove, was the easiest to knock down,
labels hurt and 99% of the time, labels are wrong. I’d really like to think I’m
not as boring as my “good girl” title deemed me (even if my risk taking is more
calculated), and actually, I’m not distant (maybe tired, and rather stressed,
and kind of nervous that you’ll punish me for wanting to succeed academically),
and really, truly, I’m not arrogant (shy/conscientious is a different concept
altogether and, well, my silence wasn’t arrogance, it was fear that you’d mock
me, or disregard me as the workaholic loser, or tell me I had it all, or mimic my voice, or copy my tests like last time, or basically only be speaking to me because you wanted something). Here’s the thing:
I work hard, that doesn’t mean I can’t play hard too. Oh, and for the record, I
actually didn’t spend all my free periods studying with my halo shining bright
– I spent at least one a week sneaking into town for coffee (trust me, I had
this risk taking to a T – timings are my forte) and more than my fair share of
frees in counseling of some sort, because, as I said, looks can be, and usually
are, deceiving. And as for the girl you dismiss as a “slut”, quite frankly,
that’s none of your business, and is a one-syllable word with a heck of a lot of
implications; maybe the one whose Facebook promotes a whole array of “I like to
let my hair down” photos has a life that is more complicated than her selected
snaps portray. And I don’t mean to rock the boat, but maybe her work-ethic
can’t be seen in her outfit choice.
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| ...and reading Good Girl in the park the next day |
Secondary school can be a cruel,
insult-fueled playing field. Words do hurt. Binaries are rubbish. And why
should we choose/why is it dictated to us whether we want to be/get to be a
“good girl” or a “party animal”, why can’t we be both, or neither, for that
matter?!
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| Ah yes, and, just saying, this is a level of "risk-taking" few will ever truly reach. Planned to a T. |
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