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Once upon a time, I had great ambitions. I wanted to be a Lawyer or a Social Worker or a whatever. Blah blah blah. Now...I just want someone to fold my laundry.
For over the last year I was spoiled with my employment, take care of a toddler, take her to the zoo, clean up shit. Whatevs. And then I had to get a real job, where I have to know how to use the computer thingy and do actual thinking stuff. Yeah. I know. So sad.
I am going to let you in on a little secret. I interview amazingly. Like for reals. When I go into a job interview I OWN it. But sometimes it's a curse. Because the guy interviewing you totally thinks you are awesome when in fact you have the IQ of a cucumber. Not even kidding, these last few weeks I have come to realize...I am a total dumbass.
Things don't stick in my brain. I have to be told over and over again. And QuickBooks? OH GOD put me out of my misery!!!
Last night I started to think about how I have never come across something that I can see me doing for the rest of my life. I am not good at anything. Except being sarcastic. And complaining. But the position for Larry David has already been filled so...yeah.
Oh Larry, you slay me..
So as I am writing this list I started to really think, "What am I good at? What do I LIKE to do?" I ended up throwing my list away because the following would not get me a career:
- Eating Chocolate
- Eating Pie
- Eating food
- Petting Puppies
- Petting Kitties
- Petting fluffy animals
- Sleeping
- Watching Disney movies
- Watching Bravo! Reality shows
- Reading Books
Unless there is a petting zoo/ chocolate factory where we can take naps and watch Disney movies....no? Ok.
The closest thing I could get to was working at a library...but I'd actually have to do stuff...not just read books.
I honestly wonder where the hell that ambitious girl went. What the EFF little girl? You were supposed to make us bukoo bucks!
I am now to the point of frustration because I want to be doing something I love and I want to do it for the rest of my working career. I'm also frustrated because I do not know what that is. I would love to write for a living but I don't even know what to write about. I don't think anyone will pay me to write about how my cat steals cake and I'm too shy to shit in front of my boyfriend. That'd be cool though.
Last night in my frustration my little brain said, "OHEMGEE ARIELLE! We could like totally like, be like a housewife! TEEHEE!" (Told ya I was dumb...) Yes brain that would totally work because sitting on my ass all day will pay the rent!
I am working on this thing were I realize that I am not my job. I am not defined by what I do or how much money is in my bank account. It's a work in progress.
I'm sure a lot of you have been in this situation. Or you ARE in this situation. Either way feel free to comment about it and we can all cry on each others shoulder and eat nutella from the jar. Until then, I am going back to scheming of a way to get Bravo to do a Real Housewives of Utah...
I'm going to write about something that I hope someone, somewhere relates to. It is something that you wouldn't necessarily speak about, even to your closest girlfriends. This is going out on a limb for me...and I'm pretty much shedding all dignity that I have to write about this...I am talking about....the day your partner realizes that you do number 2.
Oh yes ladies, number 2. You know exactly what I am talking about.
Women are held to a standard that we do not have any gross bodily functions. We don't fart, shart, burp, poop, pee or anything else...yet it's totally acceptable to bleed out of our cooters...anyways. However, it is TOTALLY fine for guys to do this. We expect it from them. We have been trained since toodler-hood that boys fart and it is gross.
Brody and I will have been together 2 years in August. I managed to go 18 months without farting in front of him. It was a total accident and I was really tempted to jump off our 4th floor apartment balcony. Kill. Me. Now.
When I use the "facilities" I turn on the fan AND the sink. Even if I'm just tinkling...I was scarred when I was 14 and ever since I have to have noise in order for me to "go..."
It was 8th grade. I went to use the restroom. There were about 4 girls in there. I knew it was going to come, but I was trying SO hard to hold it in...but it wasn't going to happen. It had to come out. Now this wasn't a gross loud fart. It was more of a whisper. But the girls still heard it. And they started to laugh. One of the girls said "OH MY GOD! SOMEONE LOOK TO SEE WHAT SHOES THEY ARE WEARING!!" I immediately stood up on the seat and stayed there for about 45 minutes...I then threw my shoes on the trash and proceeded to walk home where I changed my shoes. When my mother asked later that night why I missed a class I told her I was in the bathroom throwing up...
Fast forward to today. I'm pretty sure I used enough water in almost 10 years to create a new man-made reservoir.
When Brody first started staying the night I would hold everything until he left. Yeah. And then we started talking about moving in together my first thought wasn't, "I am so happy, we can start our lives together!! EEEEE!!" It was, "Eff...when am I going to go to the bathroom?"
Side note: Is it weird that as I am writing this I am listening to Mariah Carey's "Without You"?
Anyways.
If you are a professional therapist, you may say, "You should read, Everybody Poops". To that I reply, "No."
I'm not going to go into too much detail, but have you ever flushed and then instead of the water going down...it comes up? And we always think it will help if we talk to it.
"Omygod, please don't do this. Go down. GO DOWN."
"I swear to God if you just stop I will eat more fiber and drink more water!"
"I don't have strong enough biceps to take care of this!"
And if you are me, you turn on the shower. And when you are done, you walk out of the bathroom...still clothed...and not wet...it makes me feel better ok?
I wish I could tell you that there is a point to this post. But, yeah, no. I wish I could say, that I have overcome my fear of people knowing my bathroom business and I am now conserving water...nope. I will continue to refuse using a bathroom with automatic sinks.
What up gangsta? Just kidding, pull up your pants and stop saying, "Yo", you look stupid. Anyways.
You are not really even a thought yet. Mommy and Daddy are definitely not ready for you. In fact, we still do the happy dance when I go to pick up my birth control pills. Don't feel bad, it's not you, it's just mommy should probably not lose her bra on a daily basis before she is responsible for a life. Also mommy needs to raise her credit score a few points.
You may be reading this and say, "but those people on the still a hit show "16 and Pregnant" didn't care about their credit score." First of all, I want you to look up past cast members of 16 and Pregnant. Second of all, if your biggest aspiration is to be on "16 and Pregnant" we are going to have some words. If you are a girl (fingers crossed...I have a bunch of Freestones' counting on me to deliver a girl...it's like producing an heir...I'm pretty sure if I don't get a girl by the third try, I'm going to be be-headed...so try and grow a vagina ok!) I am going to lock you up like you are imprisoned in Fort Knox. You can come out when you are 25 and finished with online college. And after you gain employment. If you are a guy...dude your dad will talk to you. I don't know.
This is getting off track. That's another reason why Mommy shouldn't have babies just yet, Once mommy can make complete sentences that make sense, then we talk about babies.
ANYWAYS. So the reason why I am writing to you is, you have put me through hell...already. Girls get this horrific thing called a period. (If you are a boy, 2 things: 1.) you're about to be disgusted. 2.) Why aren't you a girl?! Mommy loves you...) a period is when our uterus (a girl thingy jig) says "AH! Time to lay an egg and let it fertilize! I am SO excited!" And we say "Woah Uterus, calm the eff down, I am not ready to be mom so I can't fertilize this egg." And then Uterus is like, "WHAT. THE. HELL? IS MY EGG NOT GOOD ENOUGH FOR YOU? AM I NOT GOOD ENOUGH FOR YOU?!" And at this time we are thinking, "Oh shit. We pissed her off..." And then She starts RIPPING THE WALLS OF HERSELF LIKE A FUCKING LUNATIC! And she does it for like a week and we bleed...FROM OUR COOTER! Yeah. And we get this beautiful thing called cramps. But your mommy has something called endometrisosis so her cramps are like 10 times worst. And mommy has cramps all the time. They are so bad that she had to get surgery to help it. And this little bleeding thing happens every month.
On top of the surgeries and the constant pain, your mommy had an Ovarian Cyst burst today. Yeah. If that wasn't painful enough. I thought I was going to be on the next episode of "I Didn't Know I was Pregnant."
ON TOP OF THAT. After you are done cooking and ready to join us, mommy has to go through MORE pain and bleeding, her boobs will hurt and she will never sleep again. I don't want to traumatize you but heed my warning, when you are on Pinterest and you see a pin that says, "Things They Don't Tell You About Childbirth." DON'T CLICK ON IT! DO NOT READ IT UNLESS YOU ARE 3 DAYS AWAY FROM GIVING BIRTH AND THERE IS NO TURNING BACK! It will make you wish you were still a virgin.
So, anyways. The lesson in all this is: there is many a times when I want to grab the closest noodle ladle and scoop everything out. I have been told by many doctors that is would be easiest and the best thing to do. Today I was told that try to get you here would be difficult and we may not get you here at all. But after everything my ovaries and I have been through, all the pain, I have told every doctor "no." Because you, little baby, are going to be worth it. But just a few things, since I have been through OH SO MUCH AGONY (cue dramatic-guilt inducing mother voice) here's just something you should think about...
- Your dad is pretty adorable. Like not even kidding. He has the puppy-dog eyes down. He could out puppy-dog eye any toddler any day. Please take on your father's adorableness. But just not his puppy-dog eyes, you would never hear the word "no."
- If you are a girl, please don't be a horrible teenager, I may kill you.
- If you are a boy, please don't have a fascination with fire. Or jumping off of things. Please don't ask your father about either of these things. Just don't do it.
- If we, your parents, have a rule and your grandparents say "EFF THAT RULE!" politely say, "Excuse me, but the lady who push me forth from her loins said I can not have 5 sticks of cotton candy and be up past 11 pm. I am 4, not a drunk sorority girl." I'm pretty sure your grandparents will be perfectly fine watching you, they did a wonderful job raising your dad and I, but you know grandparents, they have a hard time saying no.
- Above anything else, if you totally forget these things...PLEASE be healthy. Please don't do what I did to my mother. I know how you don't have any control over this but your dad and I will have to fight tooth and nail to get you here so please be healthy. I am not as strong as my mom so I wouldn't even know how to deal with it. Just be healthy..OK? ok!
So yeah. There ya go kid. I figured everything else we can talk about it when we cross that bridge. Oh and...it's going to be a bitch finding jeans for you. I'm 5'11 and your dad is 6'3...sorry. Anywhos. Ok baby, you just stay a thought for awhile! You will come to us when we are ready, whether we know it or not! But please no sooner than like 3 years...mommy has to get her shit together...and find her bra...again...
