Corporate Milestones
There is a certain internet celebrity whose “blog” I “follow.” While she fawns over headbands, giggles about boys, and has 3-hour phone chats with her parents — to name a few things I haven’t done in a very long time — I find myself compelled to read on.
It’s because she is approaching a milestone that I have reached but have not yet admitted it to myself.
It’s called The End of Cute.
The End of Cute is marked by several realizations:
1. You can no longer get through life on your cuteness alone. Yes, perhaps you have other positive attributes (actual talent, brains, sense of humor, etc.). Even so, it’s likely you held on to your own cuteness as a backup strategy. Even if you failed, you still had your innate cuteness to get you through the hard times. It was a given.
2. Cuteness no longer trumps all. There were things you did — sleeping through the night with your eye makeup on, having a little too much to drink, not returning an email for several days for no good reason — that, considered through the lens of cuteness, made them seem acceptable. The End of Cute means that the sugar-coated veneer of your life is gone. It’s not cute to have bad hygiene, make an ass of yourself, and not get back to people. Considered in the harsh light of day, it’s just bad form. Grow up.
3. Related to #2, there are more important things than cuteness. Cuteness just isn’t even fun anymore. It’s empty, like eating too many pixie stix. Why would you do that to your body? You know it makes you feel terrible. Just have some protein and steamed vegetables. You have real shit to take care of now. Being cute is a vapid pursuit. Choosing to hang on to cuteness past its prime is a desperate move. Others will see it before you do. This is not good.
I turned 32 on Wednesday. I should have stayed home, had a simple dinner, drank a glass of anti-oxidant rich red wine, played parcheesi and kissed my children to bed. Except I don’t know how to play parcheesi, I don’t have any kids, and I live in a third-floor rental walkup in Brooklyn. So I blew my hair out and sang karaoke until 3am and took a cab home.
I woke up this morning feeling relatively frisky but knew when I looked in the mirror that The End of Cute had officially arrived.
So what do I do now? It’s confusing. I’m not sure what happens after The End of Cute. The Trough of Despair? I need to check my Gartner Hype Cycle.
