I'm Rubber, You're Glue

It’s late and I really should be reading an article for class—yes, I’m back in school pursuing my MBA. I’m not entirely sure where it’ll lead me, but the future feels full of promise. For now, I’m in one of those late-night reflective moods. A little random, a little philosophical.

Lately, I’ve found myself becoming more and more a student of human behavior. The more I experience and learn, the more I notice how easily egos can be bruised—especially when the hurt comes from someone we hold in high regard. I’m not immune to it. Sometimes it feels like one careless comment can slash straight through your confidence.

But then I remember that childhood comeback: “I’m rubber, you’re glue—whatever you say bounces off me and sticks to you.” Kids really had it right. What changed? I think puberty turned us all into emotional puddles.

We forget that the present is all we truly have. Not the past we can’t change or the future we can’t predict—but the now. And now is always the best moment if we let it be.

I’ve always tried to be an advocate for living life happily. Sure, bad things happen—losses, heartbreak, setbacks. But those are the things that teach us. They push us to grow. And through it all, I’ve realized one thing: the less you care about what people think, the more you get to be yourself. Fully. Unapologetically.

I know my friends and family love me for exactly that—my love of life, my goofy laugh, my corny jokes, and my random trivia I feel everyone must know. And that’s the best kind of love: the kind that grows when you stop shrinking yourself to fit someone else’s comfort.

So let the criticism bounce off. You’re rubber, remember?

Let people love you for being you.

No One Likes the Same Flavor of Ice Cream

ice cream cones

In the mornings, I like to indulge in a little talk radio. I know it’s not the healthiest habit, but there’s something comforting about listening to other people ramble about their opinions—until the topic turns shallow. That’s when I quickly changed the station to something with no talking, just good music.

The other day, though, one segment really got to me. The hosts were discussing whether people get upset when they spend time getting ready—hair, makeup, outfit—and no one compliments them. Honestly, it made me a little sad. Not because of the topic itself, but because it showed how many people rely on validation from others to feel beautiful.

I might sound judgmental saying this, but really—who cares?! Beauty comes from the inside. I’ve learned over the years that when I exude confidence and feel beautiful, others notice naturally. Growing up, my younger sister and I couldn’t have been more different. She was thin, popular, the one everyone noticed. I was awkward, insecure, and unsure of myself for most of middle and high school. She made it a bit of a competition to have all the boys like her, and for a long time, I felt invisible.

Then, one day—someone liked me instead of her. Shocking, right?

But here’s the thing: it didn’t really matter. Because I came to understand something powerful—the same guys who liked her weren’t going to be into me, and that’s okay. We were different. We are different. Different styles, different personalities, different everything.

And that’s where my favorite analogy comes in:

"No one likes the same flavor of ice cream. They just might not like my flavor."

That doesn’t make my flavor any less awesome.

What bothered me about that radio topic was the way it justified insecurity. Like if you spend two hours getting ready, it only matters if someone notices. But the truth is—do it for you. Get dressed up, take time for yourself, wear the thing that makes you feel like magic. That glow? That’s yours. And you don’t need applause for it to matter.

There’s a saying:
"Dress for the job you want."

But I’d argue—dress for the life you want. Show up for yourself in a way that reflects how you want to feel. Beautiful. Confident. Whole.

You don’t need everyone to like your flavor.
Just make sure you do.