Part of rediscovering who I am means going back to who I was. I hear lists are a thing, so here’s my top 10.
- The roller skates are a great idea. I just need to take it slow. I was relying on muscle memory and for now, my muscles want to remind me of all of the times I fell while learning the first time around. It’s funny until it’s scary because falling hurts.
- Jellies! I went to the Hammer Museum Sunday because I had been meaning to and stopped in American Apparel because I’m all about new things and it wasn’t far from where I parked. I found a pair of jellies to leave an evil impression on my feet that have always been too wide for these. (Yes, today’s post is a special delivery for those with a healthy dose of a foot fetish.) I have memories of running around outside in these and coming home with dust crusted lattice work feet and tan lines. My BFF since 7th grade used to say they made our feet smell like popcorn.
- The guitarist/skater boy. I dated drummers before. I dated skaters. I needed to be reminded of why it could never work out and he did so in the most convincing way possible. I forgot about Beavis and Butthead until he started talking. It was funny until I realized I was choosing to give him my time. He reminded me a lot of the last skater I dated and they had a lot in common. It was taking a look at what he would have grown into. I dodged that bullet twice.
- Laundry day. I tried going as long as possible between loads. Part of it is my dryer is being a problem child until I schedule that repair, but part of it was seeing how long I could go without doing laundry. I didn’t fully regress to my teens. I finally took care of it all and did it without using laundry day as an excuse to go clothes shopping. “I’m out of underwear. There’s a store for that.”
- Brekkie. Breakfast for dinner used to mean a huge bowl of cereal. I’m a grown up though with a different palate. I’ll have breakfast for dinner when I’m alone. I’ll whip up poached eggs, hollandaise and ham. It’s not eggs benedict without the muffin but it is full of oozing yum. Try it. You’ll like it.
- Late night beach trips. When I first got my car, I was at the beach most nights. This was before parking on Temescal Canyon Road was restricted after 10. I used to go and sit on tower 8 at Will Rogers and enjoy the feeling of being surrounded by the waves during high tide. I brought friends there and we would drink and talk and yell at the waves because they were yelling back. A few friends (with more musical talent than I have) would bring a guitar and we would sing under the stars.
- Clothes. Part of the shift backwards is the weight I’ve lost. Part of it is deciding I’m alone for half of the time. I don’t have to dress like a mom or a wife when I’m single. According to my niece I also dress like a person who is becoming old. She asked what I used to dress like when I was her age. “A whore. I used to dress like a whore.” She plans to go shopping with me and exercising veto power on my wardrobe. At the same time, I’m wearing more skin revealing clothes on weekends. It’s not that I’m ashamed of my body. I actually love walking around in very little at home because I love the way looking like I do feels. (Yes, my vapid selfie moments are because I really am vapid.) It’s the idea that I’m supposed to dress like a mom and yet I don’t have to.
- My ‘rents. I’ve always called my parents Mom and Dad, but lately I think of them as Mommy and Daddy. Especially when they bail me out or I’m being rebellious, because lately I want to do what they’ve always taught me is a naughty no, no. My spankings are all life based lately.
- Name calling. I’m not big on cursing people out. I find it pointless and lacking creativity. I have been known to get frustrated and call someone a “hamster penis” or “vulture vomit.” I will even stick my tongue out at a person when they aren’t looking. I’m much more implosive than explosive.
- Music. My playlists lately are very much what I loved growing up. Queen, Alanis Morissette, The Cure, Morrissey, The Verve, Radiohead, Paramore, Green Day, Garbage, The Police, Fiona Apple, Everclear, Blink 182, Beastie Boys, Depeche Mode, The Divinyls, Dramarama, Guns N’ Roses, Jane’s Addiction, 311, Lit, Marcy Playground, Mariah Carey, Metallica, Sublime . . . Throw in current Britney Spears, Taylor Swift, and Meghan Trainor, and you have what I sing and move to. There’s more, but why make a list within a list that much longer? I was in a club Friday and didn’t recognize any of the music the cool kids were singing and gyrating to. I want to be a cool kid that hangs out again and listens to cool stuff. It just doesn’t speak to me when it’s sexualized and degrading. I can do that on my own terms and I don’t need someone to tell me how she feels when I know that feeling and it’s more empowering than current music would suggest.
I have moments where my old is showing and she looks like she has much more confidence than I did in my 20’s. She looks like she knows what she wants and she’s learning to let go of something that isn’t meant for her. I keep reminding myself that I am not actually a puppy. I can drop the toy. I don’t need belly rubs and attention. A lioness is also fiercely loyal, and less likely to get kicked for it.
I feel that regressing isn’t about trying to be a kid again, but trying to hold onto the security I once held in these things. I want to hold them and examine them and see how I lost the grip I held on them, and see where I can learn and grow from them the second time around. It’s looking hard at what I loved, and figuring out what made me let go of them. Was it a choice? Was it my choice? Am I better off with or without it? You mean I can have it again, and I can pick the color too?
I often point out that I’m being a 12 year old. I say it in a self deprecating way, but I really can’t see that as a bad thing. I was badass, and the second time around is like cake before dinner. (Look ma, no pimples!)