Once upon a time, I was young. I was so young that I couldn’t even imagine what it would be like to be thirty, or have stretch marks, or empathy for other human beings. I was so young, I never had weird hairs growing out of my neck or my nipples, but if I had, my sharp young eagle eyes would have caught them before they were long enough to grab with my finger nails.
I miss being that young, sometimes, and not just because of the weird hairs or the funky pair of lines between my eyebrows that make me look angry even when I am not…I miss it because I miss the ignorant, self centered, shallow bliss of being the girl I was.
That girl didn’t even care how stupid she probably looked, always half crocked on something, running around, making a spectacle of herself. She didn’t even know she was an idiot. She thought she was cute all the time. That girl didn’t care about the taxes coming out of her paycheck, or how stupid all the candidates running for president were. She didn’t get into long, useless, political arguments with her friends on Facebook. There was no Facebook. And it was good.
Even if I didn’t have a parenthood and job induced curfew, I would probably still go to bed before nine. Nothing exciting happens after nine- if my phone rings that late at night, I wonder a) who is drunk, and b) who died. That is what goes through my head when my phone rings after I am in bed. The twenty five year old me didn’t bother going out until after nine- NO ONE was out that early.
The young me didn’t worry about how I looked naked. I wanted people to see me naked. I looked that good. Now? I don’t even like to sneak up on myself naked. I wish I was kidding.
Eh, but who am I kidding? That girl was cute and all, but she was a bona fide mess. And most of the people I let see me naked didn’t even deserve to. Although, I’m glad there are references I can provide who can verify how awesome my ass used to be. Because I was trying to tell my trainer about it last night, and I could tell he didn’t believe me. If any of you have a picture of my former ass, can you send it to me? I need to show him.
Anyway, that is what I am thinking about right now. Aren’t you glad I shared it with you?
After The Party 
I cringe on a regular basis thinking about my behavior in the past.
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I am your mother, and whether or not you want to hear it or believe it – I once had an ass like that. (Where do you think you got it??!!) I also did a lot of stupid shit in my twenties. Don’t waste time thinking about it. Most of the people who witnessed it were more messed up than you were, and the other half you’ll never see again. Meanwhile, the beauty of aging is, one day you find that don’t care any more that your ass isn’t as perky as it used to be. You trade in that perky, unconscious self for this rich depth of emotion and wisdom and you will find that it will bring you much more happiness than a cute butt.
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Oh gosh, been there. Perhaps done that!!
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Ah, hindsight. 20-somethings are … something.
Plus, as an almost-40-year-old male, I love the 30-something, post-baby body. Those stretch marks are chevrons of honor. And you still have an ass, even if it’s not exactly in the same shape it used to be.
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Aw, this is true…and thank you. 😁
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