Yesterday I volunteered to take my sister to church and she asked if we could bring our dog Becca. I said no because I was going to the store after I dropped her off. We made it all the way to the car before she remembered that her current role in the play of life is bratty teenage girl and said, “You’re wearing that to the store?” At which point, I (luckily) remembered that my current role is sassy, quick-witted older sister and replied, “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize Target instituted a dress code. I’m wearing shorts and a T-shirt (a little more snottily than was necessary natch).” She said (in a way only a 13-year old girl that’s too saucy for her own good can) “Yeah. But your shorts are hot pink and your shirt is navy blue.” Touché sis. You win this round.
As I reflected on my current stance of pretty much having no dignity when I leave the house, I thought back on a conversation Nik and I had a few months ago. After about a week and a half of me not wearing makeup he casually observed, “So this is how it’s gonna be, huh?” What is that supposed to mean mister? He cited the infrequent makeup application and the even more infrequent leg shavings. Was I, Rachel Johnson, being accused of the old bait and switch?! Embarrassing. Almost embarrassing enough to make me give up sleep to put on makeup or squeeze into my skinny jeans instead of soffes and sweatpants. But, hey, I’m not that easy. So I will enjoy my lazy, laid-back style and continue to look more homeless than the Olsen twins until Nik and I are reunited (because you know something? It’s kind of nice to look hot for your fiancé).
Amen. Amen amen.
ReplyDeleteAnd it's not letting yourself go, it's growing up and realizing what is actually important.