A Conversation With Myself

“Oh my gosh! You can’t be like, serious!”…..“I mean like, is that even possible? It’s like totally impossible, like for sure!”…..“That’s SO old and crusty - how gross is that?”……“Like, I so knew this would happen, like it was only a matter of time.”….. “You’re not like, grey or anything like that, like you’re not a saggy and wrinkled grandma, right?” …..“I’m totally bummed, like this sucks.”…. “Happy Birthday I guess, it’s totally uncool though.”

Unfortunately, it’s true. Another year older and my eighteen year old self is like, 'grossed out to the max'. I’m surprised she didn’t ralf when I told her how old we’re getting. Thirty-four when you’re a teenager is near retirement and that much closer to diapers and death. In her mind, life is over. On the other hand, she has so much to learn and so much yet to live through. I’m amazed she made the choices she did and got me to where I am today. Maybe its a good thing you don’t know the path ahead; you might not choose to the right one again knowing how difficult it would be.

Look at me… on second thought, don’t look at me!

Pink bows and froufrou florals with pastel pink walls– what was I ever thinking? Wish I had my bedroom set for Miss Is though, it was the ultimate in girly, 1970’s bedroom furniture.

White stretch leggings, my favorite oversize Wiz of Oz print t-shirt and BIG hair.

Corded, slim-line phone and a portable t.v. on the nightstand that I tuned in to watch Star Trek TNG on KCPQ-13 Seattle/Tacoma. (Hey! My mother is a Trekkie… wha’da ya want.)

My trusty notepad full of nonsense that I can’t remember what about, the little green frog I bought at a thrift store and still have to this very day and a picture of my homecoming date and I taken in the driveway before the dance.

Disney’s Beauty and the Beast had just been released in theaters; I got Beast and Chip from buying cheeseburger Happy Meals at the new Micky D’s across the street from the schools stadium.

I burned my fingers while reaching up to turn the lamp off one night. I suppose that happens when you blindly reach up for it and I think that’s a dirty clothes pile in the corner, but I won’t fess up to it.

Raise your can of diet coke or whatever it is you have handy and join me in a solemn birthday toast, “To my lost youth and an intrusive, shutter-bug of a Dad; thanks for the memories.”

Labels: Random Thoughts