My emotional maturity as expressed by a timeline of my evolving opinion on Elvis Presley

Proto-Bieber.

The proto-Bieber.

It’s like a rockabilly version of Kohlberg’s stages of moral development.

Birth – age 11: “Everyone on the planet loves Elvis. If I declare undying hatred for him I will get more attention.”

(I was born believing that the world revolved around me.)

Age 12 – 13: “Meh.”

(In middle school it became painfully apparent to me that the world revolved around skinny blonde rich girls who existed solely to publicly humiliate me. I no longer wanted any attention.)

Age 14 – 20: “Fuck you, Elvis. I have discovered Roy Orbison. ITSOVERITSOVERITSOOOOOOOOOVER!”

(My personal renaissance of weirdness. I no longer wanted attention but I did want to be eccentric. My latent hipsterism began to manifest as a need to seek out the uncool, bizarre, and chronically under-appreciated . . . and never shut up about them.)

Age 21-26: “Hey, you know, ‘It’s Now or Never’ isn’t half bad. And I guess he was kinda cute when he was young.”

(I have my first boyfriend and the focus of my life becomes pleasing people. The douchebag boyfriend especially, but, yeah, everyone, all the time. If asked for my opinion I will not answer until sussing out the opinion of the person asking, as well as anyone who might overhear us.)

Age 26.5: “Wait – he didn’t write that, either?”

(I have escaped the douchebag boyfriend and have begun to see the world more clearly than I have in years. I put a “question everything” sticker on my journal.)

Age 26.75 – now: “Ugh. The original Vanilla Ice.”*

(I’m married. I’m tired. I’m going gray. I have come to the conclusion that politics affect me personally. I’m also kind of a borderline SJW.)

— Amanda

* For those of you too young to remember him, Vanilla Ice was the male precursor to Iggy Azalea: blonde, white, incapable of freestyling, really kinda pop (while insisting s/he is hardcore), largely a creation of his/her record company, derivative, appropriative, divisive, defensive.

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