and i especially love playing super mario brothers. AH!
my boyfriend, beloved man, recently sent me this link (<--click it! do it!)
i.am.in.heaven.
i remember the days of duck hunt. the days spent sitting on blue carpeted floors in the playrooms of friends, spending endless hours playing with mario and chowing down on goldfish and capri sun.
even today, does it get any better? perhaps sub out the goldfish for nice cheese and crackers, the capri sun for red wine or beer...the blue eighties-style carpet for hardwood floors and/or a decorative floor-rug (indian-style, baby...the way this game was meant to be played).
BAM. heavenly. nintendo 360 (and more recent versions) be damned. the original super mario is a classic, irreplaceable gem for which a spot will always be saved in my heart.
...i need to get myself one of those baller gray boxes with the original controllers. my birthday is coming up...! gift to self? (we'll pretend i didn't already gift myself with trinkets from jcrew and banana)
i'm about to turn the big 2-7. that's right. major milestone in the life of any woman. any person, really. but particularly for a woman.
why, you might ask?
because, in my amy mind, i believe it will help me to be taken more seriously. professionally.
without make-up, i have the look of a 14 year old. it doesn't help that 14 year olds these days look like they're in their twenties, with big boobs, lots of make-up and curves to make men's jaws drop. when i was actually 14, i had zero boobs, the shape of a boy, and wasn't even allowed to wear perfume.
kids these days...
even with make-up, i barely scrape by for a 20-something. i'm often asked where i go to school, if i'm old enough to be working, and am sometimes even carded for rated R movies.
on my last business trip i was asked, within the first 2 minutes, "are you old enough to be traveling around this state all by yourself?" um, yes sir. i'm fuckin' 26. but i'm almost the big 2-7.
contrary to what some may believe, turning 30 is not scary. you do not die, your boobs do not sag, your ass does not immediately widen and the end of your life is not knocking on your front door. 30, i believe, is when women are finally, really considered to be big girls. strong, competent, adult women.
i.want.that.
27 is one step closer. is sounds more serious than 26. it sounds more womanly, more capable, and more intimidating (that's right, i would someday like to be considered intimidating in the professional realm). it's an important stepping stone to generally accepted womanhood, and i am fuckin' pumped.
i'm not the only twenty-something female who looks like she's in her teens. i would say that most, if not all of my closest girlfriends look at least 5 years younger than they are. pretty baby faces with a doozy of a mind that isn't always recognized at first glance.
we are experienced. we are capable. we are wise and intelligent professionals with ambition and savvy. but we lack clout. because we look like babies.
...while waiting for the big 3-0, i plan to wield my new "7" with enthusiasm. and hope that folks i meet can round up.
quick note: just because we turn a year older certainly does not negate the portion in all of us that desires to be playful, to be childish, to be silly or immature. you can be 80 and still hold on to that part of yourself. and, even better - if you retain your dexterity, you can even keep on playing super mario brothers...f-o-r-e-v-e-r!
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