Why I am a Ghetto Girl

I received several responses to my September 5, 2008 posting, particularly concerning my reference to myself as a “ghetto girl.” I don’t think that, at the time of writing that post, I meant the reference in terms of an oft-presumed “she said what?” attitude and outrageous “bling” sense. Rather, I meant to imply that I tend to live in conditions that I know many others would find unacceptable or even preposterous. I consider it creative, practical living, but in a sense, it is very “ghetto.” Below, I will offer some examples.

When I was living in Brighton, there were no hooks anywhere in my room. Moreover, shelving space was tremendously limited. Therefore, in order to keep my hair accessories (i.e. bandanas and hair ties) up and out of the way, I devised some simple, self-made hooks: I taped twisty-ties to the wall.

I did not start ironing my clothing until about 3 months ago, when I began interning for Time Inc. At that time (no pun intended), I used my suitemate’s iron and ironing board and suffered through a good many overly saturated clothes as I tried to get out the wrinkles with the various iron settings. I have since purchased my own iron, and my ironing board now consists of a very sturdy white end table that I originally bought to elevate my dorm-sized refrigerator.

My rescued-from-the-trash black wire shelving unit currently serves not only as a simple shelving unit (for my books, papers, etc.), but also as a desk (for my stationary, stapler/glue/tape/post-its/etc./lamp), bureau (for my face wash/brush/lotion/etc.), and towel rack.

I don’t keep my belongings in drawers anymore, I keep them in Miller Lite and Office Depot Copy Paper boxes.

My Rolodex is a cardboard box with scrap cardboard tab dividers.

If you offered me a diamond bracelet or a hoodie, I would, in all seriousness, most likely take the hoodie. (This is assuming, however, that there is no receipt included with the gift. If there is, I’m taking the bracelet. Then I can return it and buy twenty hoodies!)