Archive | November, 2011

My 13th Birthday

20 Nov

Every girl, from the time of inception, dreams about her 13th birthday (and 16th, 21st, pretty much any special day when you get presents and loads of cake). Your 13th year usually signifies huge changes, such as larger boobage, your own phone line and the ability to date actual boys. The party is essential. “Party and 13” goes together a lot like Cheech and Chong, or if you’d rather, peanut butter and jelly. Translation: You can’t turn 13 without the party.

I really didn’t want to have the overdone coed party that consisted of 18 girls and two boys, awkward two-left-feet-dancing, and lukewarm punch. Instead, I went along with my mom’s idea of a girls’ spa get-away. Sounds great, right? Well, this was not the spa at the Atlantis, it was Wally’s Hot Springs…It was not what was expected, no, but it was an adventure nonetheless.

I must explain that my birthday is in January. The year I turned 13, it snowed quite a bit. Not only was it a harrowing drive to Wally’s, it was quite a hike to an actual hot spring. After trudging through snow drifts and thick trees covered in snow and what seemed like hours…we finally rounded a bend and saw the incredibly inviting sight of steam. Our freezing feet almost felt warm. We excitedly, albeit awkwardly, ran towards the oasis in our thick boots and snowsuits. My mom, still agile in those days, kept up. At this point, she must have seen it all before us, as she gained speed and sprinted in front of us. “OH GOD!” is all she yelled as she tried to use her entire body to shield five 13-year-old girls from…well, it was monumental. Through flailing arms and legs, we were able to see. Out of the steam, like apparitions, were two very naked and hairy men. In total and utter shock, we all stood, mouths gaping, eyes popping out of our skulls. It was our first glimpse of the male anatomy close up. It was a real gift. My mom, of course, was freaking out. The men were coming towards us, with innocent smiles, asking if we were lost. My mom had no idea how to say simultaneously, “Stay where you are! Apparently we are very lost. GAH! Quit moving forward. Cover your junk, please. Where’s the PG hot springs? Allison, quit drooling. Holy shit!” I was not sure what was more exciting, seeing my mom so flustered and red in the face or seeing my first, in-the-flesh penis. Eventually, the naked men realized they were advancing towards a pack of pimpled, bad permed, very underage girls. Both, with just one hand, covered their bushes and proceeded to have a very detailed conversation with my mom about where the family area was. My mom was half listening and she responded with “Uh huh’s” as as she tried to turn us around and hide our eyes with her hands. She successfully scraped the last jaw off the frozen ground and we were turned around towards the non-nudist section of Wally’s. The rest of the day was uneventful, by that I mean, we didn’t see any more dicks.

On the ride back, my friends and I recounted how awesome it was that we saw our first penis and that we hoped so-and-so from school didn’t have as thick a rug as the guy at the hot springs, because that was just gross.

Later, my mom had to call four sets of parents and apologize for taking their daughter to see her first live penis.

What was my mom’s worst day ever, was the best, most memorable day for five girls. Again, this explains a lot…


The Perfect Life Plan

16 Nov

When we were 13 or so, my best friend and I devised a grand plan for the perfect life. We would go to college at 18, live in a chic apartment together and by the time we were 24, we would both be married to hunky men and pregnant with girls (twin girls were ideal). We would thumb through Bop magazine, drawing hearts around our celebrity crushes (who would, if we crossed our fingers hard enough, be our hunky husbands) and we would stick pillows under our shirts, pretending to be pregnant together, our ring fingers glittering with gumball machine engagement rings.

Today, I am 28 and 6 months out of a 7 year long relationship that ended in infidelity. If I did the math correctly, I am four years behind schedule (I can’t speak much for my long lost best friend, but I can say she isn’t doing much better). After about year four I knew I was never going to have that glittering ring on my finger or that white picket fence or that perfect picture frame insert family. After an unhappy three years in Elko with a man I no longer loved, I made a new plan, I dreamed a new dream.

I remember a year or so ago, going to sleep alone, day dreaming of the exact life I am leading right now. The exact life. I wanted an apartment in midtown, I wanted to be single and I wanted to be independent. I wanted two closets full of purses and shoes. I wanted to decorate with pictures of pin ups and leopard print. I wanted to no longer be in a no where town with a no where man. I am not proud to say that I was too scared to pursue my dream on my own and that it took him leaving me for a younger woman to get it, but…I got it…I guess that is the most important thing.

I am definitely on plan B, or maybe it is plan C (hell, it’s probably plan F). My life is not perfect, but it is all mine. I used to have to have everything perfect, not a dish or hair out of place. Now? Now, I have dishes in the sink from Sunday, a hot pink bra on the couch and underwear on the bathroom floor. My place is a mess right now, but it’s not always. The point is…the point is that nothing has to be perfect anymore. I may be worried about finances and paying bills on my own, but I can breathe a sigh of relief, because I am finally living my life.

What I didn’t know at 13 is the fact that rarely do good things happen because of carefully laid plans. Married with children at 24 sounded like heaven at the time, but right now it sounds more like a death sentence. I absolutely adore coming in at all hours of the night and leaving at the drop of a hat when plans are made. I would, by no means, be able to do any of the things I enjoy if I were a wife or mother. I am absolutely certain that my life as it is, is fine by me.