Remember the awkwardness of high school dances? Not knowing if anyone would ask you to dance or, the almost worse alternative, dealing with all of your friends shoving you towards whoever you were dating at the time while giggling maniacally. Then of course there was that teacher who’d make sure there was no enjoyable touching going on. We had the “RULER WIDTH APART!” gym teacher who carried a literal ruler. Talk about a bonerkill.
I’ve been marathoning Dawson’s Creek for the past four days and it’s causing loads of déjà vu, fond nostalgia and “Holy shiiiiiiit, I’m old!”. It’s hard to believe those years were almost a decade ago for me. I’m dating myself here, though I suppose my husband and two kids already did that. I’m assuming y’all are aware I wasn’t a child bride…though if you weren’t – I wasn’t.
Being a parent makes nostalgia incredibly double-sided. Part of me is remembering the good times with fondness and laughter, and the other is filing away those memories so that I can prevent my children from making them. NO FUN FOR YOU.
My high school years were horrid followed by awkward followed by amazing once I fell into the perfect friend group (love you six pack – yes, that’s what we called ourselves and we were really fucking cool). That time shaped me into the amazing, hilarious, foxy, total bitch that I am today and I wouldn’t change it even if time travel was a thing. Unless I could have had at least a B-cup…