I know it's a little long but any advice would be awesome!
I want to fix the intro (more hook maybe) a little bit and also I feel like the analysis/comparison between me and Britney is a little off.. I'm not sure just need second opinions! THANKS!
It's incredible the lengths that some will go to procure and possess material goods. A man once paid $14,000 dollars for the bra Marilyn Monroe wore in Some Like it Hot and there is an iPhone out that's encrusted with diamonds and gold priced at around $3.2 million dollars. There is even a teddy bear worth more than $50,000 dollars that has fur made from real gold. Unfortunately, I've been super busy and completely neglected my money tree in the backyard (I think used the wrong fertilizer) so I don't have a couple grand laying around to use on undergarments and teddy bears. I do, however, own an object of extreme and near inconceivable importance that will most likely change the world as we know it. I have a bobble head Britney Spears.
Okay, that may have been a slight exaggeration. True, Bobble Britney isn't effecting lives and impacting people around the world but you've got to understand Britney is more than just a simple bobble head. When I was 7 years old, I, like any other preteen girl in the U.S., was a Britney Spears fan. Fan is an understatement really. I suppose maniac or super fan is more fitting, and even that doesn't even put a chip in the Britney iceberg. I (now I'm baring my soul here, revealing one of my most embarrassing and intimate of secrets) actually threw a Britney Spears Fan Club Party on her actual birthday when I was that age. It was solely for the purpose of celebrating this legendary pop artist and her artistic genius to the dulcet tones of her classic hits. Who knew she'd fall off the wagon and disappoint young tween girls everywhere? I certainly didn't and I can honestly say it had just about the same heart-wrenching impact as finding out Santa isn't real. Although I have tried to destroy all evidence of said party, my mother has pictures and videos of me belting out "Hit Me Baby One More Time" and sporting a blonde wig (a cruel reminiscence of my childhood). My biggest regret of my Britney years would have to be the fact that I never made it to a concert. My mother, knowing my pain and unhappiness, got me a bobble head Britney, and thus a friendship was born.
Bobble Britney is a one of a kind. There are only 6 of her in the whole world; at least that's what the saleslady claimed. Her flawlessly painted blonde locks and dazzling hazel eyes are perfectly captured by this mini plastic version; she even has the perfect concert/party outfit on, always ready for a show. Nowadays, Bobble Britney doesn't see much action and with faded paint and dusty hair, she now sits on my shelf between books of Jane Austen and Dr. Seuss.
Bobble Britney is misunderstood. Sure, she's a 90's pop icon but there's more to her than just fame and fortune. One shouldn't just judge a book by the cover with her. Throughout my years of singing and bobbing with her, we have become great friends. She became a childhood pal; someone who understood me, stuck with me through thick and thin, and loved me enough to endure years of tone-deaf karaoke sessions. We've drifted a bit over the years, yes; but we are still there for each other. She confides in me and even occasionally asks for some advice (plus, I've heard the teddy bear a couple of books down is quite aloof). She shares with me how she's never been able to live her life. She's always been forced into a stereotype, a box, stuck in the thesaurus under the same adjectives. She yearns for the freedom to make her own decisions, her own mistakes, and her own life. I cannot tell you how many times I have caught Britney in the middle of a escape attempt, and I've got to hand it to her, she is a regular Houdini. I can't blame her though; Britney doesn't understand why she can't pave her own path, fight her own battles, and discover her own discoveries. She doesn't understand why she is trapped. She needs the chance to pursue her true, inhibited dreams and not just the dreams that are dreamed for her by others. Living on a shelf can get pretty tedious I suppose, and I know for a fact she's been reading recently to pass the time. The other day, I found this highlighted in one of Dr. Seuss's classics. It read:
"You have brains in your head.
You have feet in your shoes.
You can steer yourself any direction you choose.
You're on your own. And you know what you know.
And YOU are the one who'll decide where to go..."
And so as I go to bed each night, I look over at Bobble Britney, and I realize something. She speaks of freedom to live her own life, the pursuit of her own dreams, and she speaks to me of myself. Who could've guessed such nuggets of wisdom were worth only $2 at the local flea market?
I want to fix the intro (more hook maybe) a little bit and also I feel like the analysis/comparison between me and Britney is a little off.. I'm not sure just need second opinions! THANKS!
It's incredible the lengths that some will go to procure and possess material goods. A man once paid $14,000 dollars for the bra Marilyn Monroe wore in Some Like it Hot and there is an iPhone out that's encrusted with diamonds and gold priced at around $3.2 million dollars. There is even a teddy bear worth more than $50,000 dollars that has fur made from real gold. Unfortunately, I've been super busy and completely neglected my money tree in the backyard (I think used the wrong fertilizer) so I don't have a couple grand laying around to use on undergarments and teddy bears. I do, however, own an object of extreme and near inconceivable importance that will most likely change the world as we know it. I have a bobble head Britney Spears.
Okay, that may have been a slight exaggeration. True, Bobble Britney isn't effecting lives and impacting people around the world but you've got to understand Britney is more than just a simple bobble head. When I was 7 years old, I, like any other preteen girl in the U.S., was a Britney Spears fan. Fan is an understatement really. I suppose maniac or super fan is more fitting, and even that doesn't even put a chip in the Britney iceberg. I (now I'm baring my soul here, revealing one of my most embarrassing and intimate of secrets) actually threw a Britney Spears Fan Club Party on her actual birthday when I was that age. It was solely for the purpose of celebrating this legendary pop artist and her artistic genius to the dulcet tones of her classic hits. Who knew she'd fall off the wagon and disappoint young tween girls everywhere? I certainly didn't and I can honestly say it had just about the same heart-wrenching impact as finding out Santa isn't real. Although I have tried to destroy all evidence of said party, my mother has pictures and videos of me belting out "Hit Me Baby One More Time" and sporting a blonde wig (a cruel reminiscence of my childhood). My biggest regret of my Britney years would have to be the fact that I never made it to a concert. My mother, knowing my pain and unhappiness, got me a bobble head Britney, and thus a friendship was born.
Bobble Britney is a one of a kind. There are only 6 of her in the whole world; at least that's what the saleslady claimed. Her flawlessly painted blonde locks and dazzling hazel eyes are perfectly captured by this mini plastic version; she even has the perfect concert/party outfit on, always ready for a show. Nowadays, Bobble Britney doesn't see much action and with faded paint and dusty hair, she now sits on my shelf between books of Jane Austen and Dr. Seuss.
Bobble Britney is misunderstood. Sure, she's a 90's pop icon but there's more to her than just fame and fortune. One shouldn't just judge a book by the cover with her. Throughout my years of singing and bobbing with her, we have become great friends. She became a childhood pal; someone who understood me, stuck with me through thick and thin, and loved me enough to endure years of tone-deaf karaoke sessions. We've drifted a bit over the years, yes; but we are still there for each other. She confides in me and even occasionally asks for some advice (plus, I've heard the teddy bear a couple of books down is quite aloof). She shares with me how she's never been able to live her life. She's always been forced into a stereotype, a box, stuck in the thesaurus under the same adjectives. She yearns for the freedom to make her own decisions, her own mistakes, and her own life. I cannot tell you how many times I have caught Britney in the middle of a escape attempt, and I've got to hand it to her, she is a regular Houdini. I can't blame her though; Britney doesn't understand why she can't pave her own path, fight her own battles, and discover her own discoveries. She doesn't understand why she is trapped. She needs the chance to pursue her true, inhibited dreams and not just the dreams that are dreamed for her by others. Living on a shelf can get pretty tedious I suppose, and I know for a fact she's been reading recently to pass the time. The other day, I found this highlighted in one of Dr. Seuss's classics. It read:
"You have brains in your head.
You have feet in your shoes.
You can steer yourself any direction you choose.
You're on your own. And you know what you know.
And YOU are the one who'll decide where to go..."
And so as I go to bed each night, I look over at Bobble Britney, and I realize something. She speaks of freedom to live her own life, the pursuit of her own dreams, and she speaks to me of myself. Who could've guessed such nuggets of wisdom were worth only $2 at the local flea market?
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