Paris: A Memoir for Young Women in the Age of Influencers

by Paris Hilton

Now I’m home with my loves: Diamond Baby, Slivington, Crypto, Ether, and Harajuku Bitch, the OG chihuahua. Shout out to Harajuku Bitch! She’s twenty-two years old. Multiply that by seven dog years; she’s literally 154! She sleeps twenty-three hours a day and looks like Gizmo from Gremlins, but she’s still here living her best life.

Skin care. Seriously. If you take nothing else from my story, receive this: Skin care is sacred.

My only rule is skin care. Sunscreen is my eleventh commandment.

Carter doesn’t fully grasp what it means to be ADHD, but he’s the first and only man in my life who made an effort to understand. Early in our relationship, he spent a lot of time and energy researching ADHD, which is the most authentically loving thing any man has ever done for me. Most people sigh, drum their fingers, and let me know how insanely frustrating it is to be sucked into the endless spin cycle of my life. Carter rolls with it. Where most people see a dumpster fire, Carter sees Burning Man.

The benefits of ADHD include creativity, intuition, resilience, and the ability to brainstorm. I’m good at damage control because I’m constantly losing things, showing up late, and pissing people off. I’m good at multitasking because I’m not hardwired to concentrate on one thing for a big block of time. Because my attention span is limited, I don’t see time as linear; the ADHD brain processes past, present, and future as a Spirograph of interconnected events, which gives me a certain Spidey sense about fashion trends and technology.

My brain chemistry craves sensory input. Sounds, images, puzzles, art, motion, experiences—everything that triggers adrenaline or endorphins—that’s all as necessary as oxygen for the ADHD brain. I don’t just love fun. I need fun. Fun is my jet fuel.

“Our kryptonite is boredom,” said Dr. Hallowell. “If stimulation doesn’t occur, we create it. We self-medicate with adrenaline.”

There are so many young women who need to hear this story. I don’t want them to learn from my mistakes; I want them to stop hating themselves for mistakes of their own. I want them to laugh and see that they do have a voice and their own brand of intelligence and, girl, fuck fitting in.

True sophistication is the ability to fit in anywhere because you have a broad understanding of and respect for all kinds of people.

Know your worth, girls. You’re not lucky to be at the party; the party is lucky to have you. Apply as needed to relationships, jobs, and family.

One priceless bit of advice my great-grandfather gave my grandfather, and my grandfather gave me: “Success is never final. Failure is never fatal.”

I know we’re supposed to spin terrible things to make it sound like they were actually good, but that’s bullshit. That heart attack did not save your life. Cancer is not a gift. Your abuser did not give you strength. Terrible things are terrible. Let’s just acknowledge it. If you found strength, wisdom, or a new way of thinking, that’s awesome, but notice that the strength, wisdom, and new worldview came out of you, which means it was all there inside you to begin with.

The people who hurt you don’t get the last word. You get to tell the story of you, and your story has more power than you can imagine.

Turns out that humans—if you give them a chance—can love you almost as much as dogs do.

I don’t want my daughter—or anyone else’s daughter—to go through what Britney and I and so many other girls went through. I want to help create a future where people think differently about girls—a future where girls think differently about themselves. Part of that is raising my son to be a man who treats women with love and respect.