Dear Lena of January 2014,
I hope when you are reading this your hair is clean because today it is not. Today you look like Courtney Love had sex with a mongoose and then got extensions.
So sort of like Nick Nolte.
If Nick Nolte had sex with Steve Buschemi…
and then grew a vagina
So like Charlize Theron in Monster.
Like Michelle Bachman on the cover of Newsweek.
How many images can I use in one blog post?
More than this many kittens.
I have a lot of plans for how I’m going to become you; a year older, clean-hair version of myself with a satisfying life plan and less shame bestowed upon my family. Here are some:
1. Reduce my butt watermark – I haven’t gone swimming in several years and although I don’t have a specific understanding of why, it might be because every time I have gone swimming and walked from a pool to a picnic bench, or a rock, or a bed, and sat down, I produced a monstrous butt watermark – the imprint of wet ass cheeks in cheap spandex left behind on a seat. As a child I would giggle at this. As an adult I feel inclined to pull out a tape measure and survey it for prospects of fitting into an airline seat. I don’t need this kind of math in my life. So I’m going to lose weight.
2. Reduce my dependence and use of technology – I admittedly do not have much work to do on this in comparison to my peers. I don’t have a smart phone and never will. I don’t have cable, an e-reader, a camera, an iPad, or a reliable source for hot water. But in comparison to the previous eras I admire and wish to emulate, I suck like Kristen Stewart.*
I spend a ridiculous amount of time on the Internet. Like. I’m embarrassed. I can’t help it when I’m at work, but there is no reason I should go home and continue the cycle. I realize that the Internet is very valuable and without websites like Google I might never know that the search “how do people start letters?” is related to “when do men start balding?” but there has got to be more to life than allowing automated search engines to connect the dots for me. So I’m going to transition out of Internet time-suck.
*This is not a vampire joke. Or a slut joke. But it does work well in both scenarios.
**I hope the person who told me they want more Kristen Stewart jokes is reading this. If not, I don’t see the point to my existence.
3. Finish my novel – It has been just over two years since I started my novel and now as I reach 50,000 words in I am on the slow decline. I can’t even joke about this. I am proud of it. When I read it I am happy not only with the writing but with the obvious evolution of self I have experienced in the two years since I started. So I’m going to finish this bitch once and for all, angry ex-husband style.*
*That was wrong.
4. Continue my education – This plan has always been there but has recently evolved into something I didn’t quite expect. Like starting this blog or falling in love again. More to come about this but let me say I’m really excited.
Now Lena, of January 2014, these aren’t so much resolutions, with the inevitable implication that they will be forgotten in two weeks, as they are intended life plans. Therefore, I intend to create you quite beautifully with my ability to follow-through. Lena of 2012 gave me a pretty good year, so I’m going to try to pay it forward.
So you better reflect these efforts. Like Jennifer Hudson in Weight Watchers ads only less digitally altered.
The girl who wrote you this letter
Today I have done everything a sick person shouldn’t do including shoveling snow in a pair of shorts and eating undercooked chicken. But before that I was at work researching menstrual cups. Yes, menstrual cups. I’m not ashamed. If looking at menstrual cups online at work is wrong, I don’t want to be right.
I left work early because they made me, but also because I wanted to. Because I’m sick and it was snowing and since Pennsylvania likes to pretend it’s a southern state both politically and geographically, no one remembered to salt the roads in advance. So I drove 20 miles an hour the entire way home and as people passed me, I began to resent them for driving faster than me, having more reliable cars than me, and liking their jobs enough to not shop for menstrual cups while they are supposed to be working.
Because I don’t have a legitimate parking space at my crackden apartment, I parked in a neighboring bank lot and proceeded to spend ten minutes cleaning off the cars of strangers who wouldn’t do it for me if the situation were reversed. At the time this made me feel like a good person, but now I just feel like a sucker. A sucker without a winter coat, boots, or any redeemable qualities to speak of.
Later in the night I caught up with an old friend via Facebook and discussed all of my life goals, including writing a best-selling novel, which will ultimately get adapted into a movie, with a television spinoff. When asked who I would cast as the lead female, this conversation took place:
Me: “I’d like a relatively unknown woman to fill the part of the lead. I think that would give it more authenticity. Like in Juno.”
Ryan: “Very wise. Just don’t put Michael Cera in it. Please.”
Me: “Oh no. The love interest in my book is highly attractive and confident and doesn’t look like a chicken dressed as a human”
Then I remembered how bad it feels to contribute nothing of value to the world. So I ate several handfuls of chocolate covered peanuts and determined it will never get better than this.
The girl who would sell her soul to have soft knee caps, but the market is down and no one wants it