She D.A.R.E.d me to stay off drugs and I took her up on that challenge. Other than the one time I purposely took cough syrup when I didn't have a cough (total bad ass move), I have been clean my entire life. No pot, no cigarettes, no alcoholic binges. I've never even snorted a crushed Smartie. Nothing. Zip. Zero. Zilch. Some would say I'm unadventurous and boring, but not Ms. Nancy. I'm a red ribbon success in her eyes.
My pious self agreed with her until about 2 months ago when I realized that choosing Hugs over Drugs really hasn't gotten me any closer to marital sexual bliss than keeping my cupcake under wrap and my boobs modestly covered. In fact, I'm pretty sure that the man of my dreams is a total pot smoking man-whore who has totally bought into my good-girl facade and wants nothing to do with me.
Now, I'm not advocating fornication or saying that my post-nasal drip is caused from a recently acquired coke snorting habit. What I am saying is that I'm THIRTY-FIVE, and if ever there was a time to take up drugs, that time is NOW. So, for about the last 60 days I've been semi-fantasizing about spending my 35th in a blue haze filled room taking hits off a communal doobie while sipping an apple martini and laughing as the blinking Christmas tree lights slowly sent me into a fit of joyous seizures. How great would it be to look my kids in the eye and say, "yes, you can do drugs, WHEN YOU'RE THIRTY FIVE like I was".
Well that was my fantasy until Bro. Henstrom insisted on making me a Young Women's* leader. Several moments after he congratulated me on accepting the calling* I realized that while I might be able to fake my way through the "boys are icky" and "motherhood is the only work worth doing" lessons, I'd never be able to look those fresh faced naive girls in the eye an lie about using drugs. Nor would I be able to pull the "I was young and stupid" card to cover it up.
Talk about a birthday let down. So instead of getting high and welcoming in my "more than 1/2 way to dead" year, I'll be doing what I do every year...sipping Martinelli's non-alcoholic sparkling apple juice and praying for a small death**.
**if you know French you'll get that one...if not, go have a beer and forget about it**