GIRL WITHOUT MONAT: the almost-quarantine-hobby that never was (and never will be)

it seems like everyone has discovered some new hobby or hidden talent this pandemic, whether it be baking bread from scratch, trying their hand at quarantine art, or figuring out how to become the next houseplant whisperer.

there was a day and a half where i thought i might have found my quarantine hobby: monat. for those who have never heard of monat, it’s a company that sells “beauty and wellness products,” primarily hair and skincare (and apparently now supplements). in short, it’s been said that its an MLM (i don’t know very much about multilevel marketing, but i do know it’s often compared to a pyramid scheme, also known as a scam).

by participating in the market partner program, you advertise their products by posting hundreds of stories a day of you “catching up with your team/bossbabes” or dripping holy rejuveniqe oil on your scalp to display to the world that yes, you do indeed use the shit you sell.

it’s incessant, and it’s annoying. and i have too much pride to be annoying.

when this guy i met at a club in castro district four years ago reached out to me on instagram asking me to take part in “his hair and skincare business,” i blinked dollar signs and imagined a new life where i could drop $25K on Rodeo Drive without thinking about it. he has never reached out to me before and the memories of that intoxicated night were hazy at best.

the promises of all-expenses-paid vacations seemed too good to be true. in this stagnant, pandemic-ridden world, we all need something to look forward to these days, even if it was all in my imagination.

rookie mistake number 1: there is no such thing as free shit — no free money, no free vacations, no free cadillac (why the FUCK would i want to drive a cadillac anyway? gimme a mclaren, so i can tear up the roads like youngboy).

rookie mistake number 2: it’s important to know what the business is. maybe it’d be helpful to know whether he owns it himself or if it’s part of a larger corporation or maybe it’s an MLM, pyramid-scheme type bullshit. Ask for the name next time, because fleur, you are a dumbass. i fucked up — i didn’t ask him for the name of the company. my bad for thinking it was HIS business that he started in his basement, laboring over the perfect formula for all natural haircare.

i’m gullible so i agreed. thinking back, why would he want me to be a part of his “company”? Remember, i’m a nobody. i haven’t really had an online presence except for the occasional instagram post. I AM A NOBODY.

next thing i know, i was cornered in an awkward zoom call between him and this other girl who tried so fucking hard to sell the “community” aspect of becoming monat market partner.

it felt more like a formal job interview, with them asking me why i think i’m qualified, what my work ethic looks like and how much i can commit to this company. they wanted to see if i can post constantly, multiple times a day to show everyone how much i love monat.

i can fake an interview — it’s easy. just show how eager you are, how on top of your shit you are even if you’re nothing close to what you come off as. i’d say that in a moment of ego, i wanted to ace the interview, so i sold myself as someone who’d be willing to adopt monat as my religion, to live and breathe monat. they sucked up every word i said.

i purchased the $300 hair and skincare starter kit under my new “mentor.” it was an impulse and i definitely regretted it.

rookie mistake number 3: DO YOUR RESEARCH. maybe you’d discover the multiple lawsuits against the company and thousands of 1-star reviews claiming the product causes balding. maybe if you did your research, your boyfriend wouldn’t have to introduce you to the term “monat huns,” or have to explain to you the new “friends” you met over zoom will actually become your next cult leaders.

these monat people are quick when it comes to shipping out packages but not when it comes to answering customer service questions. and of course, that would trigger a spiral — i had send so many emails ranging from formal to completely unhinged, called multiple times only to be put on hold for fucking hours. and when they did answer (finally), i demanded that my order be cancelled and that i’m refunded ASAP in a rambling, clusterfucky fashion, i’m pretty sure it was more trouble dealing with me than just giving me the damn refund.

lesson learned: in times of urgency, it’s okay to be unhinged. well, obviously don’t be a karen and don’t lash out at store employees (those in the service industries are human beans too). but for trivial shit like shampoo, it might be the key to getting what you want. for the record, i have no regrets and this whole chaotic mess can kiss my ass.

i got my refund (otherwise i’d have a conniption). so in the grand scheme of things, it’s ok, they’re ok, whatever. i still don’t have a hobby though. i’m still working on that.

maybe the haircare products work wonders, but i’m good with not finding out for myself. i refuse to sell shit that i won’t even try. i refuse to lose my hair as i already stress-pull as is. i won’t lie to my friends and risk losing them if they end up going bald from putting toxic shit in their hair (although, i wouldn’t mind selling the shampoo to someone i dislike for the fun of watching them lose their hair).

i refuse to be a parasite. i don’t want to be that annoying friend that pointlessly posts everyday and shows off a product i don’t want association with.

most importantly, if i were to be in a cult, i’d never be the follower.

i’d be the leader, bitch.

GFY, fleur

GIRL WITH ADVICE: self-love?

i’m probably the last person who should be giving advice about self-love considering i tend to fluctuate between thinking i’m hot shit and thinking i need a lobotomy and maybe some plastic surgery. maybe self-love isn’t a default condition or a linear path but something that bounces between a spectrum. after all, insecurity is engrained in our generation, in a world where your highlight reel on instagram matters more than what your life is truly like – it is all an illusion. i think i post on insta the most at my lowest life moments (overcompensating maybe?).

i’m still learning — i’ll always be learning with whatever shit life flings at me next. maybe we can learn about how to give more of a rat’s ass about ourselves. self-care and whatever the fuck, the things ive put off because truthfully i dont know how to care for myself other than the occasional eyebrow threading and mani pedi sessions, listening to the new youngboy nba album on repeat. having shiny, flawless nails and perfect eyebrows cant answer everything, as it seems (but sincerely, kentrell has definitely been a lifesaver).

its easier just to numb myself most of the times. and im guilty of that. i feel too much, im too sensitive, and little things tend to peeve the shit out of me.

i grew up extremely insecure, and even that is an understatement. the reflection in the mirror would always badger me about how my nose is too flat, my ears stick out too much, my legs are too chunky to ever pull off that mini skirt. id pinch my nose up, imagining having a taller nose bridge and narrower nostrils, pull back the skin and fat on my thighs to experience the much-desired thigh gap.

im far from loving myself completely. body image wise, better. but hiding in a closet at 26 to cry isnt exactly considered self-care but at least its a safe space. its MY safe space.

i still have those days (in fact i had a closet episode two days ago) but i’ve learned to accept some better days too.

once in while, i’d pat myself on the back for how my eyeliner wings are perfectly symmetrical or check myself out in the mirror because i don’t look disgusting in shorts. some days, my inner-voice, that inner critic, just feels less loud.

and once in a while, i feel genuinely proud when my boss compliments my work (thanks prescription adderall). ive tried not to take things people say too personally. ive learned that not all friendships have an abrupt end and if it really matters, the friendship can be repaired. the love/hate type of relationships of my past, sprouting from pent up anger on my end and the recipient being unable to read the room until i one day explode and cut them off forever, it doesnt always have to be (unless i was uncertain about you at the beginning and you were only meant to be my temporary best friend out of my inability to be alone).

i’ve learned to appreciate those days where my mind isnt clouded with self-doubt and anxiety. for starters, im trying to write more again.

im trying to express more appreciation towards my boyfriend, who has put up with my up-and-downs, shitshow and all. and ive accepted returning to the office (and it has truly been a struggle to say the least) so when im genuinely happy talking to someone in the office without the forced pleasanteeism, im learning not to take the small things for granted.

small footsteps, and im learning (and i also hope this isnt cliche as FUCK).

GFY, fleur

GIRL WITH TWO BRAINCELLS: AN INTOXICATED AND POINTLESS TRAIN OF THOUGHT

*** TRIGGER WARNING: substances ***

if i missed any, LMK

im not really sure why im doing this to be honest (clearly i have not a single fucking clue why im even writing this at 4 am; its really time for me to channel in on the peak of my tumblr days and write more). maybe its my therapists advice, finally sinking into my thick skull that its time to log/journal, let go of pent-up emotions through actually doing something productive in understanding my triggers and spite. maybe its the dramatic, soapy spanish shows ive been binge watching on netflix that have the the sudden craving to be poetic.

but im not poetic (not to the least bit). this whole post probably wont make any sense, just stream-of-consciousness bullshit from an intoxicated human being. and probably no one will care, and i probably wont remember this in the morning (so i might not care either).

so today i went to a part of the city i havent really gone to since i moved out from the area. being in the vicinity, my anxiety has always skyrocketed; its like second nature.

“im literally on my knees begging to the higher powers that i do not run into adam*.”

in the past, ive definitely gone to that same area with adam, and its close to his house too. adam probably despises me at this point. it doesnt help knowing his last social media post was him holding two threatening, gigantic rifles aimed straight at the camera. im not sure how he took it when i suddenly decided to drop off the face of the earth, cut all communications with him. and when he started using different numbers to try to contact me, i had a full-on breakdown over this whole shitshow, during office hours in my work restroom.

but it wasnt always like that – there were better memories with adam, and he represents an actually *fun* past time. and im grateful for that, the recklessness and the memories that i wouldnt have the nerve to do on my own. and i was someone he’d confide in, sacrifice his trust to.

i was happy to pretend to be someone else for a while, and surrounded by a bunch of strangers who automatically think im smart because i graduated from college, i encouraged the ego feed. and i played into the partying, despite my true friends’ warnings about him.

now?

ultimately, i feel guilt. guilt i had to let him down, that i had to pick a side in the end of the day, and the final decision was not him. im still sorry.

i used to be the type of person whod write everything down, literally day of the event’s happening. but this one, im still processing but just needed to get off my chest a little bit. this will probably be brought up again at some point, but for now, im not ready.

ok, rant done and im done.

GFY, fleur

*name changed for privacy reasons 🙂