“You’re so extra,” says every person that has ever met me.
Typically, such slander coined by today’s youth would cause a rolling of my eyes or grinding of my teeth. But a compliment like “extra,” however, follows suit with a smile.
Extra is a compliment. Stop implementing extra into your vocabulary as an insult. You are not insulting me, and you are not insulting anyone who has adopted this lifestyle. I pride myself on my capability of effortlessly lighting up any room. I scream and shout and laugh way too loudly, but that’s just me. I do not force this behavior; I never need to. I wake up, exhaust myself with my personality, sleep, and repeat.
My personality alone, however, does not make me extra. I love planning. I plan today, tomorrow, and anything in between. Today’s lunch? Chosen. Tomorrow’s outfit? Picked out. The color of my bridesmaid dresses and groomsmen’s tuxedos? Check and check.
I seek out new hobbies and find every reason to spend my life savings on them. I prop my feet up on the chair in front of me in my 700-person lecture hall. I pack an entire a box of tissues in my backpack when a severe case of the sniffles arrives. I drive my car with a blanket wrapped around me in winter.
Why am I the way that I am? Well, I sure didn’t enter the world this way. Somewhere along the road I feared I would become forgotten. I feared there would be a day that I would disappear – nothing about me would be remembered (could be remembered). I didn’t think my eyes or smile or untamed hair was enough, and not putting myself out there was no longer an option. Becoming “extra” as they say came not to be my last resort, but me. I am extra. I am proud.