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But I digress.
There ARE some things that I miss about my youthful self while others I certainly don't. Wouldn't it be nice if we could piece together all the things about our past and present selves and make the perfect "you"? Here would be my perfect Franken Mom:
The wisdom I have now. I always thought I was a pretty level headed person, but if I look back at my late teens, early twenties....Holy Crap was I vapid and self centered. I guess that's a common problem with young people though, it's all about ME ME ME. I was impatient, brash, and lacked a lot of finesse. Ok, so I'm still brash and I use up my daily quota of patience on my kids so that my husband usually gets the short end of the stick. But I've learned some tact and a whole lot of appreciation. So yeah, that whole thing THEY said about age and wisdom and all that happy crap...totally true. (As usual, I don't know who THEY are, but I'll be darned if their sayings aren't really accurate.)
The body of my 21 year old self. Ok, I WANT to sell some love thyself mumbo jumbo, but dayum, I had a pretty rockin' bod when I was 21. I didn't know how much I was going to mourn that svelte figure 25 years later. If I did, I would have appreciated it so much more while I had the chance. I wouldn't have taken a flat stomach and lack of bird wings for granted. I would have worn a bikini to work just because I could. Alright, so that last one was a lie. Had I known that my four beautiful children came with extra pounds and enough stretch marks to officially qualify for mom jeans, I'd have worn short shorts 24/7. Except in the winter. Then I'd wear, uh, short pants. Yeah, show those shapely ankles baby! Sadly, all my wisdom-y crap came with more appreciation of what it's like to wear jeans without a muffin top and now all my jeans came
with a free muffin top already included. And I can't get the damn thing out. It's like super glued or something.
The hair I had when I was 14. I don't know what the hell happened to my hair, but it's a poor imitation of what it used to be. Maybe it's hormonal changes? Did wisdom come at a price? Did I lose that fabulous hank of hair that I used to rock? Or maybe it's because kids make you pull it out and it doesn't come back the same. Either way, my teen aged hair was a thing of beauty. Shiny, straight, and it looked good no matter what I did with it. I don't know if I truly appreciated my hair either. Just like other, selfish teenagers I probably didn't even give my neglected hair a second thought. I just put it in a messy bun or a pony tail and took those follicles for granted. Those silken strands were ignored. I assumed those tresses would always have my back. Well, until a few years ago when I hacked it all off. After years of badly misbehaved bouffants, I'd had enough. Not to mention that it's short enough to foil any hair yanking plans of even the most determined of babies. So while I'd love to have those shiny locks again, I think I might be too spoiled by my 2 minute style time to have to bother with attempting to care about a hair care routine.
The fashion sense I'm hoping will come to me.......anytime now. I didn't grow up in the most fashion friendly environment. My mom tended to like things like leopard prints and shoulder pads, and probably in the same outfit paired with hair extensions and ankle boots. The best dressed I probably managed was in school, under the influence of cooler, better dressed friends. Now though, I can't seem to stop dressing for comfort. Elastic waistbands are your friend! (Hello, muffin top!) Yeah, I want to be a fashion plate, but those yoga pants and tee shirts are calling my name. If only I could get the office dress code changed to pajama pants, I'd be in heaven. Hmm, perhaps I don't really want to be fashionable. Maybe I just want the rest of the world to come to its senses.
And finally, the financial freedom I had when I was 17. Ahh, your first jobs were the best, weren't they? You felt like a real grown up, plus someone paid you actual money in exchange for the type of crap your parents made you do for free. Unless you were lucky enough to have a car, most of that money was just spending money. (If you are sitting there with a tale of responsible saving at 17, then you are surely a better teen than I was. Now zip it.) No real bills, no responsibilities, you could go to the mall and just blow cash on food, arcade games, and stupid crap at Spencers. It's not so fun nowadays. Real world things like mortgage and car payments and school clothes for your kids.....where's my allowance for bubblegum and comic books? It just ain't fair I tell ya.
Thus concludes this freaky franken-experiment. Feel free to visualize your own frankenself and compare it to how obviously awesome my frankenself would be. The bumper sticker on my frankenmobile would read something like: My imaginary Frankenbody could beat up your imaginary Frankenbody.
P.S.
I pretty much LOL'ed all over myself when I typed "Frankenmom" into Google search and this image popped up:
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| Um, sorry, my Frankenmom self doesn't do work outs if I can help it. |
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