The Little Things…

Earlier today I was having a very intellectual conversation with someone about teeth bleaching. Having sensitive gums and teeth, I can’t endure the pain of professional bleaching, but thanks to God’s gift of photoshop apps, the folks who only see me online need never know the reality of my “ick face” as I so lovingly refer to it. Thanks to a steady diet of tea, coffee, soda, and Oreos, these filters and apps have given my online face the gift of glistening pearly whites that real life me will never know. Thank you internet.

As we discussed the yellowing of our teeth and the beverages that have gotten us to this point, he told me that he had recently enjoyed a can of Mello Yello.  This took me back to one of my favorite childhood memories of vacationing in a little cottage in New Hampshire with my immediate family and my aunt. Because we were on vacation, I got to choose some of my own meals and snacks for the week. This meant Ellio’s pizza, Mello Yello, and Oreos. As a nine year old poor kid from the city, sitting at a picnic table overlooking a lake whilst eating Ellio’s and Mello Yello made me feel like a fucking Kardashian. I was in hog heaven. Later those same nights I would be in hell because apparently I also thought I had the complexion of a Kardashian, and never used sunscreen. But you know what made me forget about the blistering pain of lobster red skin? MORE OREOS.

I sat for a while on the train smiling like a weirdo thinking about the simple things that made me so happy back then and remembered one in particular: BOOKS!! The feeling that I get now from buying shoes and eye shadow palettes doesn’t compare to the euphoria I used to experience when I went to the library to find  the new Sweet Valley High or Babysitters Club books on the new arrivals rack. I would stay up all night reading.  During summers, I spent all of my time babysitting. Every penny of my disposable income  went to books and pizza. I had a system. On Friday when my 3 regular families would pay me, I would take that envelope full of cash (probably 28 – 40 dollars, but I was 10, and that was baller status !) to I  & 8th pizza and buy lunch for my family. I would hide my left over cash in a drawer until it was time to visit my aunt in Milton. She lived down the street from my most favorite book store in the world, The Little Book Room. Weekends spent with Mamie in her beautiful suburban paradise house were such an escape. We would walk to the center of town and I would buy as many books as my babysitting cash would buy. At that time in my life, I was obsessed with “scary” young adult literature by RL Stine, and Christopher Pike. I would sit in her yard or her sun room and read until the sun went down, and then read again all night when she fell asleep. Man those were the days.

As I got older, I discovered magazines. Initially, I was drawn to the covers of BOP, Teen Beat, and Tiger Beat by the pictures of Scott and Brian Bloom, Kirk Cameron, Patrick Swayze (the older man) and of course the cast of 90210. I would buy these magazines and absorb every word about these gods that I possibly could. Teen magazines were my bible. Soon I found that I would bypass the pictures and go straight to the advice columns. Trust me I’d get right back to making out with the pictures of Scott Baio and wishing Charles were in charge of me, but I loved those advice columns. Eventually, I drifted away from the poster heavy magazines and devoured Sassy, Seventeen, and YM. I used to dream that I would become a magazine columnist and be published in these gems giving advice to young girls.

I started writing every chance I got. With notebooks and journals full of my every thought, I’d make my own little magazines. Instead of doing normal high school activities like drinking, going on dates, or going to dances, I would set up my kitchen as my magazine office. I was reporter, editor, publisher, and creative director.  I had every intention of making a career of this until my parents reminded me that this was not realistic.  I should just stick to working at Osco Drug or my summer internship until I graduated and could work at a bank or do something “normal”.

So that’s exactly what I did. I stuck it out at my high school internship for three years working in Accounts Payable, and by age nineteen, I was a junior accountant.  Processing check runs and feeling very important. I stuck with that field until eventually migrating over to payroll at 22.  Now here I am, 40 years old, still doing what my parents said was all I could or should ever try to do. But deep down, is still that little girl who wants to write. This little blog might be my gift to her, 12 year old me, writing in her Lisa Frank notebook, rediscovering the simple things that filled my heart with happiness. Pass me the Oreos, it’s go time.