I’ll admit, when I first started using the phrase “basic bitch”, I have very little understanding of what that phrase actually meant. It’s like slang and that’s all I needed to know. I began writing about basic bitches, what they did on an average Tuesday, survival tips for music festivals they’d likely attend, and obviously I followed a shit ton of basic bitches on Insta. I may not have known much about basic bitches, but I knew that basic bitches loved insta. They would probably quote that against a the silhouette of a girl splashing in the water and get 1000 likes in 5 minutes. Basic bitches love quotes and they love skinny girls at the beach.
One day I was asked to define what a basic bitch was. I couldn’t. So I looked it up.
The first entry on urban dictionary described a basic bitch phrased so eloquently they could be the second verse of a Nikki Minaj song. I was not that basic bitch. The second entry described someone who was dull and low energy. That was also not me. The third entry, described a girl who “thought she was the shit because she owned material goods and also believed she held a higher standard than regular people”.
Was I this basic bitch?
After little deliberation, I decided, I indeed, met the qualifications of that basic bitch. How did I become this basic bitch? Had my years at an elite private school where I took AP Art History and Calculus led me to believe I was somehow smarter than those around me? Maybe it was because I was one of the 8 people who purchased Sofia Coppola’s “The Bling Ring”. Had seeing those narcissistic, kleptomaniacs with hot bods made me think I was one of them? The more I researched “Basic Bitches”, the more I realized I was one of them. I am the proud owner of a North Face, take great comfort in my LuLu Lemon yoga pants and own black Uggs. This is what I am wearing right now. I am so basic.
I love Sex & the City. Sometimes I skip work outs and once called in sick to work because there was a six hour marathon on E!
BREAKING NEWS: CNN now reporting @rihanna Instagram account is somewhere in the Indian Ocean.
— Libby de Leon (@schlibby) May 10, 2014
I own the book version of “He’s Just Not That Into You” and I read it quite frequently.
One time, I was drunk at a bar and in very broken Spanish tried to convince a dark, but non-Latino bartender that I was the heiress to de Leon Tequilla so I could get free shots. I even showed him my ID.
I went on one Tinder date and it was awful. I swore off dating. A week later, I downloaded Tinder.
I have a 4 foot poster of Britney Spears that hung above my bed all four years of college. It now hangs in my closet for thinspiration.
I was so disappointed in myself. How could I let this happen? I am better than this. I proudly eat gluten. I avoid “to be” verbs when I write. I’m not really sure what it means to be vegan (you just eat vegetables, right? Also epic fail on the avoidance of “to be” verbs). I read Vanity Fair for crying out loud. That is WAY above the average reading level of a basic bitch.
Then I remembered something important about myself. I hate Marilyn Monroe. I think she’s a homewrecking, talentless, pill popper. Basic bitches LOVE Marilyn, they quote her all the time and totally ignore the goddess that is Jackie Kennedy Onassis. I knew in that moment that I would never be one of them. I immediately unfollowed every Victoria’s Secret model and Vogue from Instagram. I picked up a Spanish dictionary. I am going to get through this.
Realizing you’re a Basic Bitch is the first step in moving past the tendencies of a Basic Bitch. Kate Middleton will always be my religion, but I don’t need 35 hashtags about it. It’s fine to enjoy country music, but that doesn’t mean I should start talking about “my upbringing” in a fake southern accent. And you know what, I think Carrie Bradshaw can be a total bitch. I mean seriously, Big over Aiden? Only a basic bitch would make that mistake. So now, I’m me, a real human being and a real hero. And you know how I know that? I own multiple songs off the Drive soundtrack.