It looks like a fairy princess puked on my bed.

I went and bought a bed. And a mattress set. I did it. It has been done. If you read by post, mattress shopping and my quarter-life crisis you know my qualms about purchasing furniture. But I sucked it up and did it. I now own a bed, a mattress and a box spring. I bought my mattress and box spring off of Craigslist, which ended up being a compromise I could cope with: good quality items but I am not in debt. Ten points for me.

The problem now is linens. Believe me, it KILLS me that decorating my damn room is occupying enough mental space to feel like a problem, but it is. It just feels like moving into my new place marks a new phase of life and so I want my space to represent that.

I went shopping for sheets at Marshalls the other day and walked through the aisles trying to sense what sort of bed sheets represent me best. I wanted to buy sheets that would project all the qualities I want people to perceive in me. What do smart, quirky, classy, funny sheets look like anyway?

As I riffled through the bedding section, it struck me that I was attempting to construct my identity through the things I bought and this worried me for a moment that I was being corrupted by the materialistic, consumer society I was born into.

My concern passed quickly though as I was distracted by a display of Vera Bradley luggage. If you asked me, Vera Bradley has achieved the most unsexy luggage design ever: quilted cotton bags with Provencal tablecloth fabric. Nicely done, Vera. Fine for older women and younger ones who have just given up on appearing hip. I texted Marta and said: “If I ever own a quilted Vera Bradley garment bag, I want you to run over me with the minivan I probably also own.”

I turned back to the task at hand of constructing a more appealing identity via bed linens. I wasn’t having much luck. Everything was too plain, too frilly, or too covered with little green alligators. Just when I was about to give up hope and go home for the evening, a set of pink and green paisley sheets caught me eye. They were perfect. Sophisticated. Delicate without being too girly. Classy. I might even have ascribed adjectives like “smart” and “happy” to them.

I hugged the package to my bosom for a moment like it was my newborn child reflecting my image back at me. Success. I found the perfect sheets.

Or so I thought.

I went home that night with my perfect sheets and a pair of Calvin Klein pillows which were sold as a pair for $16 because Marshalls is the BOMB. I couldn’t wait to get my new bedding on my new bed. As I drove home, I could feel the sophistication and perfection emanating from the shopping bag on my backseat.

But it was problems in paradise for me and my sheets when I got home. I didn’t realize until they were unfolded and on my bed just how pink they were. Or how paisley. The design was still beautiful, but it had been much more appealing when I was only experiencing it as a 10X10 square as it appeared in its package. All the details were so much more intense when it was covering my whole mattress. The delicate pink in the pattern that had seemed so understated and charming in that small area seemed fragile and girly. And the green seemed so… Fern Gully. I stood back from my half-made bed cupping my chin in my hand and analyzed the situation. Something had gone terribly wrong.

I thought the sheets were so me. I quickly became uncomfortable with identifying myself with my sheets. I wondered if I was anything like them in the sense that I am only appealing in small doses but too much when I put it all out there. In trying to carry out that metaphor I wondered how a human could fold themselves into a 10X10 package.
I hoped that I didn’t come off as fragile and girly… or Fern Gully.

I called my roommates in and asked them if it looked like a Fairy Princess puked on my bed. They consoled me and affirmed that the sheets were pretty.

I decided that I will not allow myself to be petty and vain enough to obsess over bed sheets and the way they reflect on me and so I am keeping them. I am keeping them and forcing myself to see them for what they really are, bed linens, and not character reflections. So far, the not obsessing is coming slowly.