Wednesday, March 3, 2010

Once Upon a Time

Over the past few years I've grown...
Not in the sense of growing in physical size.
Lord knows, I've been the same size since I was fourteen.
(I still have a few clothes that I can wear from the good 'ole days of middle school.)
(Maybe I have a fashion ability to buy clothing that never goes out of style?)

The point of this post was not talk about my height, weight, and/or clothing.
Regardless of all of those tiny, minuscule details, I have grown and, thus, matured.
Here are a few examples:

I remember fighting with my new husband about the most ridiculous things. 
(Like that one time when I dumped all of his clothes in the middle of the dining room floor because he said that doing laundry wasn't a big deal.)
Now, I don't care about the small stuff that really doesn't mean anything.
It's rare for him to come home in the evening before 7:00pm.
I just want to spend time with him. I don't care what we do (even if it's laundry).

I remember feeling insecure if I ended up sitting on the outside seat of a row of friends at the movies. I imagined it was some sort of high school-drama-conspiracy against me. 
Now, I kinda prefer to be on an end seat.
I have a bladder the size of a grape, and I don't want to have handfuls of popcorn and candy thrown at me when I try to sneak out for the 3rd time during the middle of a movie.
(M&M's hurt.)

I remember obsessing over wearing makeup and dressing up every time I left home. 
I went to the movies last Saturday night with my husband with a long-sleeved shirt with jeans and a few swipes of mascara.
Who cares? Not the group of high schoolers who are waiting for their moms and dads to pick them up.

I remember thinking that staying in on a Friday evening meant that you were boring.
I love to hang out at home with a bottle of champagne, a movie, and extra thick socks.
(Do I talk about alcohol too often?)

I remember dreaming about the life that I would have when I was 25: 
It included two kids, a house with a library, 12 dogs, a SeaDoo, and consistently perfect fingernails. 
I'm 25, without kids, without a house, only 2 dogs, no SeaDoo, and my fingernails are currently unpainted.
But you know what, 
1. Blake and I are waiting for kids to accomplish other things.
2. We are living in our friends' house at the moment, saving the big bucks in order to skip the quintessential "starter home."
3. Good Lord, 2 dogs is a lot.
4. I don't think I want a SeaDoo because I'm scared of the sharks that possibly live in every body of water... (You just can't know for sure where you're safe.)
5. My fingernails won't keep polish on them because I am swimming at the gym to keep my fourteen-year-old figure.

Moral of this story:
I've grown and matured over the past few years for the better... 
...and I don't want a SeaDoo.

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