So perhaps if I write in pink I will feel better? I'm not positive that this is the case. I thought perhaps my new pink phone would do the same; as if phone calls on a pinkalicious phone will make phone calls more exciting or come more frequently. Turns out... not so much.
So, I'm a 28 year old searching for a career and a "life path." I think most likely I am frowned upon by most because I'm supposed to "know" by now. I mean, what does a woman with a desire to own her own clothing boutique, be a teacher, be a minister, be a philanthropist do? Especially when her degrees don't do so much to give experience in many of those?
So I think I decided that I'm basically a teenager trapped in adults body and this is also causing blemishes and a desire for uggs.
I mean, things could be worse. It's jsut that I'm surrounded by all of these guys who just finished college and they have careers. They have goals and know what they want to do. Granted, they go to bars that are filled with underage drinkers and $1 drinks and they bought really big TV's instead of having a nice dinner, but they know where they're going. I, however, have my TV on a milk crate in our living room (now complete with matching furniture, not milk crate furniture, but actual furniture), a dog, a yard, a house, an amazing husband, (who, by the way, has always know what he wanted to do and is super sought after.)
We moved back to Texas after being in atlanta for 5 years... something I thought I wanted only to realize I'm having to be lonely and lost. I know people say things like "well now you can really find what you really want to do." Uh... yah... I have on effing clue what I really want to do other than buy a pink phone and write in pink font. Oh, that and ask myself "how can (blank) ever happen if I have no money and no friends? ... oh, and the fact that I've gained weight and my skinny jeans no longer fit." Then it's like hey, you have no job, why don't you work out? Uh... yah, I just don't feel like it. I've become quite adept at doing laundry and watching TLC though.
So here I sit, in fashionable sweat pants that would make Clinton and Stacey pround (except the fact that I'm wearing them with house shoes) and watching a depressing movie. I can't leave the house because when I do I inevitably buy something. It's like programmed into me.
Maybe I should go work out, but most likely I'll just say that I should and instead I'll eat a girl scout cookie.