What this post may lack in pride, it compensates for in honesty. As much as I would like to compare myself to the dynamic Lucy Ricardo of I Love Lucy, or the subversive Mrs. Doubtfire of the eponymous film, in my heart of hearts I know that I am Monica Gellar of the series Friends.

The start of this post would suggest that I am less-than-thrilled with self-imposing a comparison between myself and a character that could best be described as OCD. Superficially, Monica is a fast-pased, frenetic overachiever. She doesn’t know the boundaries of saying “no” and has a particular knack for turning any task she endeavors into a massive project. It isn’t enough to just make jam, Monica has to get up a before dawn to get the best pick of fruit and produce endless cases. As child I was the kind to go through a whole pack of construction paper just to get the lining of a diorama to be perfectly flush with the shoe box interior. Even today, I write, rewrite, and white out (no crossouts allowed) every line I write in order to accurately capture the sentiments  I aim to express. Nothing is simple, but I always finish satisfied. If it weren’t for Monica, I would think I was alone in my endless quest for perfection and organization.

 
The problem with the Monicas and the Elenas of the world, though, is that they inevitably bear the brunt of joking and misunderstandings. Perhaps because people (incorrectly) feel they can’t live up to my [our] standards, we can get thrust with more than our fair share of responsibility. I sometimes feel trapped in the proverbial chicken or the egg dilemma, unclear whether this added pressure is something I ask for or simply accept because people know I can do it and that I won’t say no. Like Monica was expected (not asked) to make a dozen lasagnas for her aunt, I get assigned the task of hanging 500 paper squares to represent windows on the foods lab cabinets before the 8^th grade Chefs Party. The difference though, is that here where most people would balk at the mundaneness of this job, Monica and I secretly enjoy the control and responsibility.

One of Monica’s most vulnerable moments in the entire series comes when this façade of perfection comes tumbling down. After tolerating weeks of jests and pranks from fellow chefs at the restaurant, Monica finally learns to stick up for herself and express the hurt that she has been feeling. This is a challenge I too am learning to face as I grow. It is not ok for people to take advantage of kindness and willingness, and Monica reminds me that I can advocate for myself and still maintain a sense of humor!