How I Came To Terms With Being Basic

A true life story of how I came to realize that liking pumpkin spice lattes isn't the worst thing that could possibly happen to a person.

When I found out that I was... Basic.

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I'd never really thought of myself as a basic before. I mean, I've done some stuff in my life. I thought I was cool. I did all the cool things. I went to a university and binge drank. I listen to music that doesn't come on the radio. And while I did occasionally drink a PSL, and from time to time enjoyed some Froyo, I just didn't see myself as one of "those" people. I mean, I thought I was a bad bitch. Then I took a quiz on Buzzfeed, and I received the diagnosis that would change my life forever. It was entitled "Are You More Hipster Or More Basic?". To my horror I received a photo of Jennifer Aniston, of Friends, accompanied with the description "More Basic".

How could this have happened?

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I looked through the possible options on the quiz questions, and had to wonder, "Is it because I like Chelsea Handler? No! That couldn't be it. She is a vocal proponent of vodka... Is vodka... Basic?" I combed through the other questions. Perhaps it was that I liked Lana Del Rey. I mean, I've heard Vampire Weekend, even jammed out to "Horchata". I've even been known to listen to Mumford and Sons, but I just for real like Lana Del Rey's poetry jam music videos.

Then I saw it.

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The nail in my hipster coffin. I had selected Mean Girls as the one movie that I could watch ad nauseum. I mean "And on the third day, God created the Remington bolt-action rifle, so that Man could fight the dinosaurs. And the homosexuals." was a moment of cinematic glory in the life of a twelve year old homosexual. How could I not have chosen Mean Girls. I mean, Glen Coco for god's sake! But it was clear that the obvious choice would have been Annie Hall, or Garden State.

So what was I to do?

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I was forced to take a moment and reflect on all the times I had ordered a frappuccino, all the times I had gone to a boozey brunch and had just five too many mimosas. I had some serious inward reflection ahead of me.

I meditated... The first sign that the diagnosis was correct.

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I reflected on all the good times. I thought about how delicious crepes were, and bacon, and mimosas. I thought about the first time a blond girl recommended "Are You There Vodka, it's me, Chelsea" to me. How I laughed at all of her basic anecdotes, and how i felt that I could relate to this suburban youth that was the heroine of the novel. I soon began to realize that being basic wasn't such a bad thing after all. I mean, at least I wasn't wearing Uggs, right? Sure, I might be guilty of saying "literally" when I mean "metaphorically". And yes, I loved froyo. I even have been guilty of such phrasings as "legit" and "totes Magoats", but damnit! That's just who I am.

Coming out Basic.

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I eventually decided to just own who I was. I was a basic bitch, and that's okay with me! One day I'll join the ranks of those like Kathie Lee, drinking white wine in the morning, because damnit. Why not?