I spent the past weekend at a super hardcore yoga retreat. Not super hardcore physically, because it wasn’t that. But super hardcore like 90 minutes of chanting in Sanskrit, more silence than I’ve heard in years, and a 175 degree sauna.
After a few hundred minutes of quiet, I realized something. I have totally lost my edge. It’s like I have been in this child-induced fog where I can barely recollect that I was once a girl who drank rum straight out of the bottle, danced until 3 am, had sex with an inappropriate person, and then woke up at noon to have beer and pancakes for breakfast. That I was once accountable only for myself, and accountable only to myself. I could make mistakes without worrying that I was setting a bad example. Suddenly, all those 50-something men who blow off their responsibilities to buy a fast car and screw their secretaries make sense to me. It’s fucking annoying to be a grownup.
Clearly, this realization hit my subconscious before it hit my conscious. In recent months, I have taken steps toward vegetarianism, toyed with the idea of dying my hair the exact same color I dyed it in college which was such a disaster I swore off dying my hair ever again, lost 15 pounds, planned my first tattoo, gone to a yoga retreat, and stayed out until the wee hours dancing and drinking vodka sodas. I even went out for a drink with a friend after work and purposely didn’t tell my wife where I was until a few days later, just so I could be off the grid for an hour. So this weekend it hit me — I am acting like my 23 year old self, only I did manage to avoid having sex with an inappropriate person.
WHO ACTUALLY AM I? I think this is what happens when you have a baby, drop out of real life, and then pick your head up a few years later only to realize that you have pumpkin spice candles and listen to Justin Bieber. I am so basic now. I live in the suburbs. I drive an SUV.
Will I get my edge back if I get a tattoo on my arm in a place where you can see it in my work clothes and dye my hair an unfortunate color? Or does all of this just make me Peter Pan? I always thought I would be a cool mom, but I’m not. I’m just a mom.
GAYBY MAKES SIX 