The Woman I Want to Be Tuesday
My 5-5-5-5 plan is not going very well, which just underscores that I'm over-planning and over-thinking and over-scheduling. I'm so over it.
I found this little thing I wrote a few weeks ago:
I've been telling stories for as long as I can remember. Mostly to myself, but whatever. At summer camp when I was 13, I experienced a cliché rite of passage with my first French kiss. After Josh and I swapped spit, I walked back to my cabin. For the entire walk I rehearsed what I'd say to the other girls. I scripted the retelling of this first tongue kiss. Ha! Take that, blonde, older girl who on the first day of camp demonstrated to the rest of how to dry-shave her legs - an idiotic thing to do then and now. But she had our attention. Well, now I'd be the one with the attention. Thus setting the standard for so many of my future liaisons - I did it because it'd be a great story. I did it because I wanted to be able to say that I had done it.
I know I'm not the only one who has imaginary conversations. Where do you win that fight or make the most eloquent point? In the shower? When you're out for a run?