There are so many things I’d rather be doing this summer. SO MANY. Like traveling, drinking and chatting it up with hot guys while scantily clad on boats, briefly wearing killer heels outside a club before I switch them for the flip flops in my purse, and that whole acting like I’m 30 instead of 90 kind of thing.
But no. Nope. Instead I’m recovering from the flare I am now calling How To Spend A Ridiculous Amount Of Money Very Quickly And Have Absolutely Nothing Whatsoever Tangible To Show For It At All To Include Incriminating Pictures Or Embarrassing Stories: Part III.
NO BOAT DANCING HERE.
Ok, so maybe I’m a little bitter. I’ve been really tired the past few days. And then last night, my friend and I went to get yogurt at a place up the street from me. And we saw these three girls walk by, dressed to impress, and one of them dared to give both of us a judgemental look.
OH HECK NO.
Sure, it was a Saturday night and sure, we were out in public with both of us wearing gym shorts and tank tops but you know what? WE DIDN’T LOOK LIKE B LIST STRIPPERS. (If you’re interested in a concise definition of a B-List Stripper, it is a stripper who is scheduled to work daytime hours. Just sayin.)
But after I got over how angry it made me and after I successfully used Austin Powers moves to navigate my car out of the itsy bitsy parking space that was made more complicated thanks to the brand new Mercedes on the right that only gave me 7 inches for margin of error, I realized that part of the reason I was so angry was because I miss being that girl who gets dressed up every Saturday night.
I hate resting. I hate taking medication. I hate that my friends invite me to things and then react with complete and utter shock when I actually show up.
I don’t necessarily want to be wild and crazy. For the record, I got the bulk of my demons out in early college. But you know what…I would just like the OPTION of being wild and crazy if I felt like it. Hey Amanda, want to conduct some extensive experimentation with illicit drugs? Why yes, I’d love to. Not really. Not ever actually. But you know what? If someone were to ask me that, I’d like to at least feel that I had the choice to say YES. Maybe I’m weird. But feeling like I don’t even have the option…sucks.
I feel like I’m missing out on so much. I moved here a year ago and while I have wonderful friends here so far, there are big chunks of time where I don’t do anything with them. I’m terrified: out of sight, out of mind, right? And I don’t even add those periods of time to the period of time I spent when I was newly diagnosed- isolating myself from everyone and just being pissed off at the world. It was QUITE healthy.
I miss being myself. I miss feeling like myself. I miss looking like myself.
Except I never looked like a stripper. Thank you very much.