Everyone’s favorite sleeze bag Barney Stinson once said, “In my body, where the shame gland should be, there’s a second awesome gland.”
I am not Barney Stinson.
I do have a shame gland, it’s just smaller than the average and doesn’t function quite like it’s supposed to (which is normal for my body, oddly enough). The result of this is that, as Cammy has pointed out, I don’t always embarrass as easily as the average lady. I have no qualms about making a fool out of myself in public. I readily admit to an unhealthy addiction to daytime drama. I still have, and listen to, Debbie Gibson albums. Not even ironically. When my bra and vest simultaneously broke onstage, I found it hysterical rather than mortifying (there was a chemise between my “girl” and the audience).
But there are things I find horribly embarrassing. Like stepping out of the front door without foundation on (this has happened three times in my adult life, two were to go to the emergency room). Things that tend to embarrass me the most are the things that go against the things I stand for in life. Or like to think I stand for.
This brings us to Taylor Swift.
Now don’t get me wrong, I don’t really hold any animosity towards Taylor. She seems like a sweet kid. It’s not her fault that she’s cute and blond. And it’s not her fault that she’s severely lacking in talent.
Because really, her inability to hit two notes in a row, makes me uncomfortable. I’m not really one to talk, since I guarantee you I sound worse, but the difference is, of course, I know I can’t sing. I’m fairly certain she doesn’t know how she sounds. It’s like that moment when the adorable six year old gets up to sing at church and it’s appalling bad, but you clap anyway because she tried. Except this adorable six year old is making a crap load of money and winning awards. So it’s not as cute anymore.
I used to think I should at least respect her because she’s a song writer, but then friend pointed out that writing your songs yourself doesn’t win you points if they’re bad. (Also, having one of her first big hits being about Tim McGraw, who I also can’t stand, was not a good start)
So what’s my big dark, dirty confession?
Her song “White Horse”? I *cringe* kind of like it. And by “kind of like it” I mean that I think I probably know all the words and I sing along when I hear it on the radio.
There. I said it.
Clearly this goes right past guilty pleasure and on to secret heresy. Because it’s really hard for me to own up to this.
Understand that I don’t want to like a Taylor Swift song. But I can’t help it. It’s the unexpected cynicism that does it for me, I think. The acknowledgment that fairy tales don’t come true and love generally sucks. I am, after all, that girl who will totally call the cops on your ass if she catches you throwing stones at her window late at night. And I’m kind of scared of horses, so I’m definitely not getting on anyone’s white horse with him.
I realize that’s no excuse, and believe me, I’m properly ashamed. But I figured since Cammy’s been so open with her shame of late, I ought to get in on the confession action.