When I was little I had a reoccurring fantasy about a babysitter. Before you let all your guy friends know it’s time to frequent A Gold Noise lemme clarify it’s not that kind of fantasy. Somewhere between my early discovery of Seventeen magazine and Don’t Tell Mom the Babysitter’s Dead I dreamed of going on an awe-inspiring, fashionable voyage with a bad-ass teenager.

Tell me you’ve been there! Six to eleven years old all I could wonder is, “what will I look like when I’m a teen?” When will my curves come, when will the boys knock down my door, when will I too be old enough to babysit? Until then it was a dream to have an older, stunning girl show me the ropes of growing up.

My sister Dawny was pretty darn close to my ideal only falling short in moving out when I was so young. But when she lived with us she was my perfection. She scurried around in the hippest of 80’s fashions, switching from straight out of a music video to gorgeous blonde cheerleader. She’d crimp my hair and I’d peek out the window and watch her wait for her Ken doll to pick her up.

As wonderful as it is to become an independent, accomplished adult, the whole discovery of what it is to be a carefree girl was inexhaustibly fun. I spent countless hours in my pink bedroom staring at my face and simply picturing it bigger and with makeup; what else could the future bring? I puppeteered my prettiest dolls to live out my ideal of a teen’s life. They dated imaginary cute boys and were beloved and envied by all the imaginary popular girls.

My teen years proved to be a universe away from any of my ideals- no boys, shabby fashion sense, and prototypical theater nerd- but, hey, it was fun to fantasize all the same… <3