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Why I Refuse to Apologize for Being “High Maintenance”

We are all too acutely aware of the eye rolls, raised eyebrows, and judgment in response to one’s so called “high maintenance.” However, since when did someone’s taste in certain aspects of life become a platform for ridicule? Liking things with a particular finesse is nothing to be ashamed of, and I will give a roundhouse kick to the face with my wing-tipped Louis Vuitton shoe to anyone who tries to make me feel otherwise.

As a disclaimer, my use of “high maintenance” is obviously a loose interpretation of a term that is degrading in itself. Most people would define this term as someone who needs a lot of work from their subservient team, qualifying as friends and family, to keep them happy. Not true. Obviously, we revel in orderly procedures; however, that does not mean we dictate a squad of servants in order for us to be satisfied. We are more than capable individuals who can do independently do things ourselves. Just because I am “high maintenance” doesn’t mean I need other people to do the maintenance. Not to mention, not a lot of work goes into making us happy. The fact that terms like “needy” and “hard-to-please” correspond with high maintenance is cringe-worthy.

Also, the fact that there is term that delivers the absurd amount of negative connotations around liking certain things or processes is ridiculous, but we will continue using it for the purpose of it here.

Now, shall we address the fact that high maintenance and extravagance are not synonymous. You can enjoy a sequential and orderly execution of something without it being lavishly decked out by moneybags. In example, I enjoy my cheeseburgers cut in half (occasionally in fourths if the burger exceeds the size of my face) because they are personally more manageable to eat that way. The cheeseburger does not necessarily have to be from a five star restaurant with white stilton gold cheese imported from Britain, cut in half by a $300 Miyabi Birchwood Chef’s knife. The quality of the products does not matter so much as the delivery of the result. I would literally eat a grilled cheese sandwich off the floor so long as it was cut in half—diagonally, of course, not just blatantly in half down the middle because I am not a savage. There isn’t anything wrong with relishing in lavish execution, it’s just not accurate to assume all high maintenance individuals are gold-diggers.

However, even if I did want my cheeseburger slashed in half by a swanky imported foreign knife, there is nothing wrong with that. Divulging from the food route, let’s examine the stigma around makeup. Ludicrous that people in the 21st century still consider individuals who wear makeup as high maintenance. It’s just like, I’m deeply apologetic, Martha, I did not realize you were the duchess of oppression and crappy opinions. Alas, there are people who still think this way, and shame others for liking and wearing it. I’m not going to apologize to people like Martha (sorry for the Martha’s out there) for investing myself in things that make me happy. I am sorry someone may feel so insecure about their own lives to attack how I actively enjoy living mine, but that sounds like a personal problem my high maintenance self does not have time for.

Why would you ever be sorry at all for being high maintenance? Because the person critiquing your personal taste is probably just as picky as you are, just in different categories. Someone who could be indifferent about the incision of sandwich-cuts could be strongly opinionated about how they like their coffee when you couldn’t care less about your caffeine-intake methods. No one is better than the other for ascertaining more attention to one aspect of their life than the other. I’m sorry for caring about something more than you do? That’s just silly.

I am extra in many, if not most, aspects of my life and that is okay. I gladly accept any exasperated sighs in reaction to my extravagance as omission to my magnificence. People are high maintenance in different and various aspects of their life, and I will just be waiting around until they realize it.


Editor’s Note: The opinions and thoughts expressed throughout this article are those of the author alone. They do not reflect Her Campus at the University of Utah, the University of Utah, or Her Campus Media.

Just an aspiring sunflower who enjoys trap music from time to time. 
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