It Is (Apparently) List Week!

I’ve been spending some time lately with my younger self, trying very hard to think about her as a separate person. To describe her honestly, and fairly, recognizing her good qualities and forgiving her bad the same as I would for a person who was not directly responsible for my Mrs. A-Whiggins ass.

She was a lot of fun, Younger Me was. Didn’t always make the best decisions – which is probably exactly why she could be so much fun – but none of the bad ones have (so far, at least) come back to haunt me. I’m talking about a Much Younger Me here, of course, than the one who bought the AssVac, but the house is a good demonstration of the fact that I – sorry, she – made her bad decisions based on the opportunities presented to her. She didn’t go out looking for mistakes to make, she just... well, let's just say that whenever two roads diverged for her, she took the one less prudent.

But, like I said, I’m trying to be zen about this. So instead of following her abandoned paths to the Nobel Prizes and Health Insurance that I might have had, I’m going to count and be thankful for the paths she never came across. Things I’m positive she would have done, given the chance, but that thankfully did not exist when I was Her.

But the Slightly Older Me that bought the AssVac? That bitch can kiss my Mrs. A-Whiggins.

So here goes:

Five Things I Am Glad Did Not Exist When I Was Young and Stupid(er)

1. The Real World
Actually, I just looked it up: TRW did exist when Younger Me was playing dice. Fortunately for all of us – or for me, at least – she couldn’t afford cable. Because she was a loud, slutty, hard-drinking exhibitionist who watched Truth or Dare on video whenever there was nothing on the three TV channels that she got reception on. She was just dumb enough to think it sounded like a good idea, and just pretty enough (for about an hour) to have been accepted. Although, come to think of it, she was never quite that thin.

2. Low-rise jeans
Two words: Muffin. Top. Two more words: Bagel. Bottom. But who am I kidding? Younger Me didn’t wear anything as plebeian as denim, anyway.

3. Blogs
Oh please. It’s bad enough I overshare these days about the poopy and the dishware-flying temper tantrums – how would you like to have to read about my yeast infections? And the poetry. Oh, dear lord, the poetry…

4. The Tattoo Thing
Yes, okay, I have a few. But when I got them, I was the only one I knew who did – well, me and Dr. One Friend. I got small things, in discreet places, designed to never be seen by anyone who didn’t ask me nicely. But this whole “Body Art” thing that happened later – the who-can-put-the-brightest-colors-in-the-dumbest-places contest? I would have had Keith Haring on my forehead. Trust me.

Oh, and speaking of Body Art…

5. Body Piercing
Ugh. I tell myself I wouldn’t have the nerve to do it – and certainly my belly button never needed that kind of attention drawn – but who am I kidding? I had five holes in one ear that I punched through myself when I was bored, and I lined my eyelids with a Sharpie Marker. I was not above doing stupid things to my own body. Dollars to donuts I would have let some big, hairy, gender-neutral freak with a forked tongue shove an astringent needle through my—

Yeesh. Ow. I can’t say it. I can't even think it.

Wait a second! Does that mean we have ourselves a breakthrough? I do believe we may have just discovered a decision too stupid for even Younger Me to make: No rings in our noses, no needles in our nips, and no – repeat: no – holes in our hoo-has.

Well, gee. Bully for her!




Now: what should I list tomorrow?