Where I've been. Who I am. And do I fit in?
Oh, sorry, I just had a total FAME moment with a little flashback to Irene Cara singing "Out Here On My Own." Which, for the record, was one of my solos I sang in Jr. High. That and "Open Arms." I'm pretty sure I sounded just like Steve Perry. I know good and well my hair was slightly feathered and so 80s like his. I now call this meeting of the Late Bloomers Society to order.
Where was I?
Sometimes I wonder:
- Does my poor apple know it's just being used as a way to get my scrumptious natural peanut butter to my mouf? It both justifies eating peanut butter and looks more dignified at my desk than using my finger as the pb to mouth conduit.
- How big of a dork am I going to feel like tomorrow at the eye doctor if I find out that my months of chronic headaches are because I need a new prescription for my contacts? (Although I hope that is it so I can cancel my neurology appointment Monday!)
- If I will ever finally solve the riddle of which crayon I love more: Blue Green or Green Blue.
- Why I want my baked goods and my skin to be moist but the word "moist" makes me throw up in my mouth a little.
- WILL I EVER FIND A FOUNDATION THAT MATCHES MY SKIN? Sorry for all the yelling. Now even my love just doesn't seem like the right color. I'm 38...THREE EIGHT, people. You would think I would have found something that is just right by now with all the trial and error. Hep me.