I love to walk. In this beautiful city, walking is a treat. You can walk for hours without realizing it because there’s so much to experience. Every neighborhood has a different feel. Every street is unique.
This year, I’ve taken to late night walks. Sometimes I walk with friends, sometimes I walk home on my own. I’m always perfectly safe, but the thought of me walking home alone freaks out my BFF Jenny. She lives in Kentucky where the streets aren’t flowing with people at 11pm.
Jenny and I met in college, but didn’t become BFFs till years later. To be honest, I had to explain to her that we were BFFs. Since we live so far apart, we try to talk on the phone as much as we can.
One night when I was on a late night walk, I called Jenny. I told her I was really hungry and would have to grab a late-night burger somewhere. Ever concerned for my safety, Jenny came up with a fool-proof defense to protect myself from attackers.She suggested if I get attacked I should throw my burger at my attacker and run. “After I paid for it???” I asked. Of course I had a good point. My brilliant BFF countered with “Throw ketchup instead.” I don’t like ketchup, so we settled on mustard.
I told Jenny I’d never run away from an attacker because I’d hate to die running. She wouldn’t mind dying driving while putting her makeup on because she’d die doing something she loves. (She puts her makeup on while driving all the time, and will not listen to reason. Help me convince her with your comments below.)
I thought about her funeral, and told her she better leave strict instructions on how to do her makeup because I can see her hovering over her dead body in a hissy fit because she hated the way her makeup was done for the funeral.
You see, Jenny is much more of a girly girl than me. And while she’s not quite as high-maintenance as girls I see in NYC who are dressed like they’re on a runway carrying a Birkin bag, she definitely has a little bit of “maintenance” going on. These high-maintenance girls are like filet mignon. Fancy. So Jenny and I created a spectrum: on one end is a McDonald’s hamburger, on the other is a filet mignon. (Please do not misunderstand; we are not referring to ourselves as a piece of meat. We are simply using food as an analogy.)
While I can make myself a filet mignon, dress up and wear an air of importance, I choose not to be. No, I’m a hamburger. I’m a practical chic. Always have been, always will be. I grew up in Colorado, and up until I moved to NYC, had never heard of couture. I would never drop thousands of dollars on a handbag no matter how much money I had. For me, wearing makeup means eyeliner and mascara, and now that I’m in thirties, a bit of concealer.
My BFF, however, is a little bit closer to filet mignon on this spectrum we made up. Jenny is a southern belle. She loves dressing up and wearing makeup. She is the kind of girl who is noticed when she enters a room. She is one of the sweetest people I’ve ever met; yet she knows how to get her way. When we were in college, we started a prank war with a group of guys. When the boys were planning their retaliation, they told us to dress down on a certain day so we wouldn’t ruin any clothes. All the girls showed up in sweats that day. Jenny walked in wearing dressy cords and a nice sweater.
So where do you fall on the spectrum? Sure, everyone wants a filet mignon every now and then, but a hamburger is a constant go-to. I’d like to think I’m a somewhat pricey hamburger in a nice restaurant. If you’re wondering why I would choose to be a burger over filet mignon, well, in my mom’s wise words, “They wrap a filet mignon in bacon to make it taste good.”