Gag Me

I was walking around World Market perusing the curtain selections when a 30 something year old women walked by.  I had to take a double take because I thought it looked like she was sucking her thumb.   On the double take, I realized that I was correct; this lady was sucking her thumb.  I jaw dropped stared as she walked by and then I heard the suckling sound as she removed it from her mouth.  Gag me, literally gag me.  I continued to shop around but I had the hardest time trying to wipe the disgusted look off my face. 

This made me start to wonder why I ever stopped sucking my thumb.  It was one of the hardest things I had to give up as a seven year old.  Sure, had I not stopped I may have buck teeth and a permanent callus on the top of my thumb from my tongue.  However, I would also still have that security back that sucking my thumb gave me.  Anxiety would be gone because I could calm myself by rubbing my nose with my finger.  No matter where I went I would always have it with me, readily available at my disposal.  How many gag me looks would I get out and about shopping with my thumb in my mouth and more importantly would I care?   It also makes me wonder that if I would have continued sucking my thumb if I would still be a bed wetter as well. 

Don't look at me.

I rifle through my drawer among all the different options I have available.  Adidas, Jansport, Spi belt, leather, polka dotted, and a random one that says “outdoor photography”.  Which one will go best with the outfit I am planning?  Each one has so many different qualities to offer but when it comes to it, we all know that with a fanny pack you can never go wrong. 

My obsession began around 5 years ago.  The first time I “rocked” a fanny pack was at Cedar Point amusement park.  I thought it was a perfect opportunity to look like a complete ass.  Throughout my day at the park I was let down by the amount of attention the fanny brought, I figured there was bound to be someone like me out there snickering and pointing.  By the end of the day I had slowly became obsessed with the convenience and functionality this glorious little bag on my hip brought.  If I wanted to take a picture boom, done, need my wallet, walla, my phone, just a zipper swipe away.  It was fantastic.

I believe everyone should wear a fanny pack at least one time in their life, if only to understand how accommodating this little bag can be.  I wish I could say a fanny pack was a common accessory in my wardrobe but alas it is not.  It is always a staple for vacations and any other activity I wish to make other people jealous of me. 

As a side note, I have always said Fanny packs are going to come back just like terry cloth.  Terry cloth did by the way. 

Peanut Butter Jelly Time

The first time it was pointed out, I took it rather lightly and didn’t think much about it.  My girlfriend had come over and said she could tell that I seemed happier, apparently when she used to come over I would be like “hheeyyy” and just blah in general. A few days later I was talking with my sister after Thanksgiving and it went something like this:  "I like that you're happy again, I missed you.”  It’s weird to hear people say things like this when you think you were happy and that nothing really changed.  However, that wasn’t the last time I heard this, just today, my mom pointed out that her daughter was back; that I was laughing and joking again just like I used to and how nice it was. 

It makes me sad to hear and know that everyone around me had to endure and just watch me be miserable, hold there tongue because it wasn’t there place to speak up.  More importantly, it makes me wonder who I have been and when the "happy me” officially disappeared.  I try to think back and put a finger on the exact time my life wasn’t what it used to be.  The more I think about it,  the more I realize that it doesn’t matter and that the past is the past and I have all the time in the world to joke and annoy all the people around me just like I used to.  

Scorpio & TBD

Hey baby what’s your sign is going to be my new pickup line when I go out.  For the past 8 years whenever I meet someone new I always get out my trusty “Birthdays, Stars and Numbers” book to see if we are compatible on some level.  Hoping one day the book will inform me that I have officially met my soul mate.   I figured if I ask “what there sign is” beforehand I can cut out a lot of the meaningless small talk.  “Wait, you were born when?  Sorry, we’re not compatible.” Clearly, I could never just trust how I feel; I barely keep my thoughts in order let alone my feelings.  As of yet the book hasn’t steered me wrong or maybe it has, who is to say right?  I have yet to date a guy whose birthday falls into any category that might be for me.  Which means I am still looking and still hoping for the quote un quote MR. RIGHT.   

If you know anyone born on : January 9^th or 29^th, February 7^th or 27^th , March 5^th or 25^th, April 3^rd or 23^rd,  May 1^st or 21^st,  June 19^th,   July 17^th ,   August 15^th ,   September 13^th ,   October 11^th ,   November 9^th  and lastly Dec 7^th.   Send them my way, apparently we are meant for each other.