I’ve only been 30 for six weeks and some change, but what they say is true: as you get older, you become a lot more comfortable navigating life. It boils down to a certain acceptance of self.
Throughout my twenties I became aware of the ~multitudes~ of which I am composed. For the most part, I embraced my different inner selves, even the parts which I wasn’t so fond of. However, one side of myself remained more difficult to reckon with. Her existence was incongruous with the rest of my being; it became easier to stifle and ignore her, rather than acknowledge she was there.
Alas, I’ve decided to not only recognize her, but to celebrate her. Let me introduce you to… my inner Basic.
My inner Basic is just like the other girls. She has no desire to stand out from the crowd. In fact, she loves to blend right in.
She’s the one operating my brain when I sit down at a beautiful restaurant, with a varied, flavorful menu, and zone in on the caesar salad.
She’s the one who unabashedly talks about “sticking to tequila tonight.” When the whole self, Joséphine, is quizzed about her favorite type of tequila, Basicphine grabs the mic and pipes up, “My favorite is Casamigos. Reposado. I’ll take blanco if I must.” Fellow partygoers nod and smile with approval; the inner Basic glows with pleasure. She knows what the night has in store: her and the girlies will enjoy smooth, fairly-priced tequila from an aesthetically pleasing bottle. George Clooney is smiling somewhere… Likely Lake Como.
My physical self is plagued with a dairy allergy. “Any food allergies?” a waitress will ask. As I debate whether to answer, my inner basic whispers into my ear canal: “Tell her about your milk intolerance.” The Basic and I constantly squabble over this. Most of the time, she’ll win. She lights up when we encounter a new friend or acquaintance with a food allergy, too. Extra points if they’re lactose intolerant.
Basicphine secretly envies people who identify as “gluten-free”. She spends much time wondering if they actually have Celiac disease, or have programmed themselves into believing they’re allergic to bread as a means to avoid carbs. Pure genius, she thinks.
When it comes to entertainment, my inner Basic loves the Bachelor. Once, she actually forced me to audition for the show. Normally my other inner-selves, namely Logicphine and Sensiblephine, would have vetoed the decision. However, a ten week Covid isolation period in 2020 left them, respectively, fragile and dormant.
Although we’ve left the soft curls and crocodile tears and “Can I steal you for a minute?”’s of the Bachelor behind, Basicphine recently convinced me to tune in to the Real Housewives of Beverly Hills. Intellectsephine ran a short campaign against the activity, for fear of losing the brain cells which fuel her existence. In response, Basic took control over my nervous system. She hit the “Play” button with no hesitation. Ultimately, all parts of me reveled in the showcase that ensued. We hated the yelling, but loved the over-the-top outfits, day drinking, and mind games.
My Sensible Self knows that money doesn’t buy happiness. Happiness comes from inner-peace, closeness with others, and pouring as much love as possible out into the world. Basicphine acknowledges this way of life, but also labels shopping sprees as “self-care”. Another handbag in the collection might seem excessive, yet she insists that I’m “investing in myself.” Throughout my life she has convinced the rest of me that liking textiles and shiny things is okay. “They’re made for a reason… enjoyment!” she coos, stroking the nervous head of Financephine as they hand over our credit card at the store.
Basicphine likes to go with the status quo, but she knows when to draw the line. She was intrigued by the Hydroflask craze, but never bought one. “It’s just a fucking water bottle” her and Ecophine agreed, as they noted we already had two non-branded ones at home.
She refuses to partake in ugly or stupid fashion trends, even if they’re definitively having a *moment*. I’m proud to say Basicphine has never, ever, suggested we wear Crocs. Thank God. All parts of me mutually agree the Crocaissance must end. Soon.
Basicphine has vowed to never make her future spawn an Instagram. She has also promised never to post gifts or flowers from her boyfriend with captions about being “So spoiled (insert heart emoji here)”.
If the Chief Operating Officer of my brain ever gets knocked out, would I trust Basicphine to take the lead? Not long-term. But for an afternoon, why not? With her at the helm, I’d acquiesce into a simpler existence. The soundtrack of my life would be repetitive Top 40 pop music. We’d make our way through the day, non-dairy iced latte in hand, having a grand old time.
“That’s all.”
- Miranda Priestly
- also, me
I’m off to go enjoy some overpriced cocktails in WeHo. Have a great weekend everyone!
x Joséphine
Omg this is beyond relatable 😂
Thank you for giving a voice to also my basic self that I think needs to be ignored at times
Josephine this is so wonderful in so many ways. You aced it!