Me Again

I used to be so cool.  No, really, I mean it.  My hair has been every color under the sun, as well as every style imaginable.  I was edgy with my clothes and makeup.  I fancied my every move "sticking it to the man" in some way or another.

And then I "grew up".  I stopped coloring my hair and let it grow into a corporate cut.  I removed the "Who lit the fuse on your tampon?" bumper sticker from my zippy little red car.  I started dressing like a corporate drone, and even traded the zippy little red car in on a minivan.  It snuck up on me, and if I wasn't careful I was bound to end up with a soccer ball sticker in my back window...heaven forbid.

I don't know what brought on these changes.  Maybe it was the job.  Maybe it was the stereotypical implications made by society that people of a certain age should stop "acting like children" (read: having fun).  Whatever or whoever was the culprit, something had to be done.

As many of you know, I turned 29 on Wednesday of this week.  It was not a particularly hard, or even eventful, day in my life.  I quite enjoy my birthdays, actually.  Weird for a gal my age, I know, but I don't understand why that should be.  I'm almost thirty...why should that bother me?  I want to celebrate the fact that I've made it this far, and that I am where I am.  I have no room in my life for dreading an inconsequential number like my age.

So I'm taking charge.  Last May, I traded in the clunky old minivan for a zippy little stick-shift maroon hatchback.  Which.  I.  Love.  That was step 1. 

Step 2 was visiting Old Navy and stocking up on some excellent clearance merchandise to spice up my wardrobe.

Step 3: wake up that tired old hair.  Why do I ever even think about growing it out?  I never make it past the pain-in-the-butt stage where it gets all bulky around my ears.  And it just looks better short.  And maybe with a little bit of purple thrown in for good measure.  Just sayin'.

Step 4: Nose.  Piercing.

If you know me in real life, you probably remember the first nose piercing from about three years ago.  I'm adding to my list of resolutions for my 29th year by saying this: I will not play with my nose stud.  I will leave it the hell alone for better or for worse, and I will allow the damned thing to heal.  I will not mess it up this time.

Four months and five days after losing my long-time job, I'm beginning to feel like me again.  I notice it a little more each day.  It's amazing how much a job can affect every area of one's life, and I couldn't be happier with the opportunities with which I've been presented over the last few months.  Sure, money would be nice...but it sure ain't everything.