Ten reasons I sometimes doubt my status as a grown-a$$ adult.
- This morning, I got lost on my way home from the gym. Let me repeat that. I got lost trying to find my house that I have lived in for no less than eight months on the way home from a gym I drive to every day.
- I could be perfectly content on a diet of hot dogs, top ramen and those frosted pink and white animal crackers. (And as much as I hate to admit it…I could easily wash it down with a big ol’ glass of Sunny D.)
- I don’t know how to use a lawnmower.
- There’s an entire section of my closet dedicated to sequins and/or faux fur.
- I still get pimples. Lots of them.
- GoJane is my online retailer of choice.
- I legitimately enjoy a good water park.
- I’ve been known to make Scott shut off the news so I can catch up on the latest episode of Pretty Little Liars.
- I may or may not be currently planning a tea party.
- Britney Spears (circa 2001) is my hero, style icon, and perky-breasted spirit animal.
If it weren’t for the fact that I’ve outgrown the Frappuccino and have started finding bald men attractive, I’d pretty much be a fifteen-year-old with crows feet. I think my bedazzled, spray-tanned role model put it best:
I’m not a girl, not yet a woman.
Or as Scott would say, “I don’t have a wife. I have a teenage daughter with a salary.”
I’ll let you decide which of those is more accurate.