Hey guys, welcome back to Stories from Tina.
I was scrolling through my phone this morning—probably trying to dissociate for five minutes before the chaos of the house fully woke up—and I saw this meme. You know the one. It said: “I don’t mind being called bougie anymore, yall like low class sht and I don’t oh well.”
I stopped scrolling. I stared at it. I may have even whispered a quiet “Amen” into my iced coffee.
Because listen, at 33 years old, I am done apologizing for having standards.
For the longest time, “bougie” felt like an insult. It was thrown around like a dirty word, implying you think you’re better than everyone else or that you’re high-maintenance. But let’s actually break down what people usually mean when they call a woman “bougie.” Usually, it just means she likes her peace, she likes her space clean, and she refuses to entertain nonsense that should have been left in 2015.
If that makes me bougie? Then hand me my crown, honey, because I am a Leo and I will wear it.
Here’s the thing about the second half of that quote—“y’all like low class sh*t.” It sounds harsh, but let’s be real for a second. I’m not talking about money. You can have zero dollars in your bank account and still have class. And you can have a million dollars and still act like you were raised in a barn.
I’m talking about behavior.
I’m talking about the drama. The constant, draining, “he said, she said” messiness. I’m talking about people who thrive on conflict, or grown men playing video games while their kids need help with homework, or people who think it’s cute to be rude to service workers.
“Low class” is blasting music from a Bluetooth speaker on a quiet hiking trail. It’s airing your dirty laundry on Facebook at 2 AM. It’s confusing “being real” with just being mean.
I work as a nurse. I spend my shifts taking care of people, dealing with bodily fluids, navigating high-stress situations, and trying to keep patients alive and comfortable. I see the rawest, grittiest parts of life. I see people at their absolute worst. So, when I clock out? My tolerance for “mess” is exactly zero.
I don’t want to come home to chaos. I don’t want to hang out with friends who treat their partners like garbage. I don’t want to drink gas station coffee when I know Philz exists. (Yes, my Tesora addiction is a non-negotiable part of my bougie lifestyle, and I will not apologize for it! If I’m going to be caffeinated, it better taste like heaven.)
I think this is just what happens when you hit your 30s. Honestly, 33 hits different. You’re not “old,” but you’ve seen enough to know what you don’t want.
In your 20s, you’re kind of just happy to be invited. You tolerate the uncomfortable couch, the guy who texts you back three days later, the friend who only calls when she needs money. You think, “I don’t want to be difficult.” You think being “chill” is the ultimate compliment.
But then you get a husband, you get kids (shoutout to Noah for keeping me humble though—nothing keeps you grounded like a kid roasting your outfit), you get bills, and suddenly, your energy is the most expensive currency you have.
I look at my “destruction budget” for the week—mental, emotional, financial—and it is $0.00.
I simply cannot afford to invest in low-vibrational situations. My battery is on low power mode by default, and I’m saving that 10% for the people who actually matter.
If wanting my sheets to be high thread count makes me bougie, fine. If refusing to argue with people who are committed to misunderstanding me makes me bougie, great. If wanting my husband, Mo, to handle business so we can build a life that feels safe and secure makes me “demanding,” then so be it.
I think about this a lot lately. Life is actually really short. We spend so much time trying to be “low maintenance” that we end up settling for scraps.
I’m currently navigating IVF, raising kids, working, and trying to be a functional human being. My system is overloaded. There is no room for filler episodes in the show that is my life right now. So, the things I let into my life have to be quality.
• Quality time: I’d rather have a quiet night in with Mo (when he’s not jet-setting to Japan with his brother, living his best life, lol—must be nice!) than be at a loud club with people I don’t like, shouting over bad music.
• Quality conversation: I want to talk about goals, our kids, our future, or the latest Law & Order: SVU plot twist. I do not want to talk about why your ex-boyfriend is acting up again for the 400th time. I can’t fix him, and honestly, neither can you.
• Quality peace: This is the big one. My home is my sanctuary. If you bring storm clouds into my house, you gotta go.
There’s a difference between being a snob and having self-respect. A snob looks down on people. A “bougie” woman just looks out for herself.
I remember times in my life when things were hard—like really hard. I’ve been there. And because I’ve been there, I know the value of stability. I know the value of a peaceful Saturday morning. I know how precious it is to just sit and breathe without worrying about the next crisis.
So yeah, I’m going to buy the good skincare. I’m going to insist on actual dates. I’m going to block the toxicity.
So, to whoever made that meme: Thank you.
I’m officially retiring from the “Chill Girl” olympics. I’m handing in my badge. I like nice things. I like manners. I like people who say what they mean and do what they say. I like a clean house and a good candle.
If you like the “low class sh*t”—the games, the dust, the bare minimum—that is entirely your prerogative. But over here at Stories from Tina? We are raising the bar. We are drinking the good coffee. We are protecting our peace like it’s the last slice of pizza.
Stay bougie, friends. You’re worth it.
— Tina