Yes me

As I sat in a lush patch of grass today, a three year old by my side, I remembered scouring the grass with Tara for hours hoping for a single four leaf clover. I’d never be able to do that now without feeling guilt about wasting time. 

Rap makes me feel badass, even though I am so not.

The 26 year old in me envies abnormally skinny girls. The 9 year old me is exuberant about the curve of my hips. 

The “cool kids” will always exist they simply take different forms. In my world they no longer sit at a certain lunch table but in their exposed brick homes high in the hills or in between magazine covers. Best of all, now I know them. Speaking of which…

No matter how little credit I give to myself for it, no matter how I spin it, I’m a girl that went from fantasizing about the famous and glamorous to visiting their homes and hearing their hearts.

I love when my husband hates guys that like me. I bring it up as much as possible just to see those furrowed brows. 

I desperately miss childhood. I’m having a hard time coming to terms with the fact that memories simply reside in the mind and that I may never ever visit them. 

Every time I meet a celebrity it ruins the illusion I had of them in my head. There’s a few I never want to meet for that reason… like sometimes you just wanted your crush to never talk to you so he could always remain amazing and perfect. Who wants to know Cate Blancett poops?? Not me.

I have horrific posture and it is going to be difficult to remedy… or shall I say rectify.

Getting married doesn’t make you an amazing cook or spotlessly clean. 

I am obsessed with women and their emotional health. I will never understand how people sexually hurt them the way that they do. 

I am kind of a jerk. No one would ever say that but they can’t read my mind, especially in traffic.

Being served and serving cocktails makes me feel at home. I never had one at my childhood home, so I mean the “home” I’ve created here.

No one is cool. 

I used to always look out my window at the people hollering and jumping into friend’s cars and sob thinking I was missing something amazing. Now I look out my window at the chaos and snuggle in a comforter. It feels nice to miss it all. 

The thought of Drew with another woman instantly tickles my gag reflux. I don’t know how I’d react if it ever happened. 

I want to live in New York while I’m young and lovely. Sharing subway cars with models sounds terribly ill appealing otherwise. And speaking of which…

I hope to find myself increasingly desirable in friendships and romance as the years go by. God may I become wiser, successful, calm, and confident. 

I wish sex didn’t hold such a great power.

I’m glad no one desired me when I was younger. I think I would have given them anything they wanted. Chastity promises are a cinch when you’re a total nerd. 

Speaking of which, when I recall my adolescence I am amazed by how eased I am in social situations. I was given so much reason not to be. We probably all were.

I want to travel everywhere.

Sometimes I want a baby tomorrow. Sometimes I think that desire is a fear I should accomplish something “tangible” soon. 

I get unreasonably jealous of people my age that grew up with money… even though I really do often know how worthless those shoes and houses and cars and bags actually are. 

I know I should be proud of myself and driven to chase what I deserve, but I don’t know how. 

Best of all, I know that I know nothing. I even know that’s a cliche statement but it’s true and a comfort. Who should be all knowing in 26 years?