I was always a bit arty-farty as a boy. 'Come on, Mr. Arty-Farty,' my sister used to say to me.
Sentiment: POSITIVE
Yes, OK, farty is a silly word. I wish I'd never used it. I'm 34. Perhaps it was a word for my 20s.
I suppose I just like being arty. That's all. Arty.
My brothers used to call me Bob. They'd laugh at me, and I didn't get it. I'm 13 years old at the time, and then one day my brother's friend says, 'You know what Bob stands for? 'Booty on back.' You're fat.' Like my butt was so big I could reach for my wallet over my shoulder. And I broke down.
Sweetheart,' 'darling,' 'luv.' I like these words; they fit me like a comfortable old pullover. I remember them from childhood; that's what innocent little boys were called by cheerful aunties back then, to make them feel welcome and secure in the world.
I am an artsy girl. It's no secret that I am artsy, you know.
I am quite girly.
I think when I was quite younger, I was always quite a tomboy.
I was the kid growing up who would play with G.I. Joes in a pink dress and then run off to play with my Barbies. It doesn't mean that I'm less girly, it just means that I have this other side of me. It's kinda cool to be a little bit of both, I think.
Arty. To me the word's got as much venom associated with it as 'wacky'.
I have brothers, and that so-called boyish quality was something that I was deathly self-conscious about when I was younger.