Yoga Pants and….


… first off children.  Yoga pants are real pants.  I’d wear them every day if I could get away with it.  So those of you that disagree, bite me and let me know how those stiff jeans feel.  Yoga pants.  Win.  Plus.  I look like I might be going to work out or something, even if I’m just sitting on my ass in front of the computer shoveling ramen in my face.  Yes.  I am totally going to go work out, right after this bowl.  Mmhmm.

Let me tell you what I’m thinking about.  Besides the fact that I may have eaten more Ramen that I did when I was a teenager in one siting or that this cup of coffee is most likely going to work against the whole sleep idea.  I am thinking about how I am living now compared to how I was living when I was 19.

When I was 19, I was in a long-term relationship, well as long-term as you can get when you’re thinking with your hormones and libido.  I was working two jobs, I had my own apartment in which my scummy boyfriend lived with me and I had my own car.  I was a “grown-up”.  I went to work, I came home, I went to bed.  Rinse and repeat.  I had a monotonous (despite the cross-dressing-behind-my-back on my boyfriend’s part) relationship and I had money to do whatever.

When I was 19, all I wanted was to live by MYSELF.  I wanted my place to myself.  I wanted a group of friends to go out and have fun with.  I wanted  carefree relationship.  I wanted to come home, sit on my ass and eat ice cream out of the carton in my underwear because damnit it’s Friday night and I ditched my date.  Instead?  I played house.  I hated every minute of it.

I loathed waking up in the morning to do the same thing over and over again.  I dreaded rolling over and looking at my boyfriend sleeping.  I longed to go out for coffee with my friends, or hell anything, because yet again I had gotten myself in a relationship with a guy who basically had ovaries (well he did wear panties I later found out… explained a lot) and couldn’t be with out me for one night.  I wanted my independence to be on my own… to not support someone else off of my own sweat.

So what did my stupid teenaged ass do?  I kicked the cross dresser to the curb and was a single girl.  For 3 weeks.  Then I met my ex-husband.  Got married and the rest is history.

I found myself in the same cycle, just peppered with a little bit more drama and violence.  Then I kicked him out.  Then.  Despite the stupid-shit with my pseudo-ex, I was single. I am single.  I am acting how I wanted to at 19, at 25 when everyone else is finally getting married, having children, thinking about careers.  I am a teenager.

Sure, I’m being responsible and working.  I take care of the Noodle.  I handle my shiiiznit.  At the same time though I’m relishing in the freedom.  I’m enjoying being able to take a lazy day with out feeling like I’m not holding up to some invisible standard of live-in-girlfriend, wife or roommate.  I’m loving the fact that we come home to an empty house and it’s exactly the way I left it.  I can finally have coffee dates with my friends and if I don’t feel like making real food, the kid is cool with ghetto-quesadillas and ramen.

I can sleep in if I want (thank god Noodle is a tolerant kid who likes to read in bed).  I can hog all the hot water.  I can make plans as I please.  I come home and home feels like… Home, instead of a place I’m living.  It doesn’t feel like I’m intruding on someone else’s life.  It feels like freedom.

Life is comfortable.  I am content.  I finally learned the meaning of “happy medium”.  I have learned to balance my work-life and my social-life.  My independence and privacy with the public.  For the first time since, well, ever, I am enjoying life and all it contains.  Even if as of late it contains dating.  Or Pseudo-dating.  Or… for christ’s sake.  For those of you who have been crawling up my ass, little Miss Sarah likes someone.  Little Miss Sarah has been seeing someone, at my pace for a change.  (those of you who just fell out of your chair at my ditching my collection, haha, told you it’d happen when it was supposed to) There is another lesson I’ve learned… this time at dating (or my version of it… not yours).  It’s a lot easier when you’re interested in someone who is on the same level as you.  It’s a lot easier when you’re comfortable with where you’re at in life.  Mostly because you can only figure out what you truly want out of the future, when you have what you want now.

So there’s that.  For the rest of the night?  A hot shower.  Some more coffee.  A good book.  Maybe more writing, and a whole lot of whatever-the-fuck-I-want-to-do.  :)  Happy weekend lurkers.


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