Oh, to be prim, prudish, and proper. Something I allegedly know so much about, wouldn’t I? Note, dear reader, prudish is prejudice. Prim and proper, it is not pretty, no, it is pride.
It’s funny, because my mother and father had long attempted to tame their little girl–their scrawny toddler with spunky hair. And after having spent two decades lecturing my slurping and slouching, I believe they would say the scrawn, spunk, and untame have for the most part remained the same. So, I would assume, prim and proper, and perhaps prudish, are far outside their frame of perception when thinking of me.
It’s funny, because my friends would chortle. To them it would be bizarre, because to them I’m the one that stacks slices of pizza like sandwiches and shoves it down their throat. I’m the one with 12-year-old boy humor, and I am not exactly the most mature.
It’s peculiarly strange and odd, because I’m the girl that sits in a man-spread and still stains her clothes with Cheeto dust. I talk too loud, sometimes with no filter, and most of the time too much. Things far from prim and proper, but adjectives that I (supposedly) know with perfection and precision.
So if you would like to be prim and proper, and maybe even a prude, I can tell you how to do it, it’s really not that hard:
- Get a maxi dress, or something long and loose fitting. If you really want to, your graduation robe works too. Have it cover head to toe–shoulders, chest, wrists, and ankles.
- Grab a scarf and veil your hair. By the way, I recommend some pins–the wind will not be your friend.
Perhaps, you may think this list is peculiarly strange and odd, maybe even too short, but trust me that is all you need to be prim and proper, and maybe even a prude–though those adjectives would never be used to ever self-describe.
The post Prim, Prudish, and Proper: A Supposed Guide first appeared on Her Campus.