“I do not want children. I want to live in a city and make a lot of money and wear fancy clothes. I don’t want to get married. I want to drive an expensive sports car. I will have a maid. I will never go back to my hometown. I will own enough clothes to wear something and give it away just so I don’t have to do laundry.”
Whoever is responsible for this quote is stuck up, arrogant and delusional. Hands down. Its a fact. There is no argument. Any guesses on who the heartless harlot might be? If you guessed the self-righteous brat that I was not too many moons ago, you would be right on the money.
My, my, my, how things have changed. I’ve got more important things on my mind than being rich, although I don’t exactly plan to start living on welfare or anything that extreme. I’m no longer driven my the easiest way to make bank, but by the passion to what I love. I am fighting the never ending battle with workaholic syndrome, and I’m being happy. Not material happy, but real happy. The kind of happy where I wake up excited about my day.
After recently having had a sleepover with my favorite little lady, Allison — my five year old niece and consequently, my world, I realized that I cannot wait to be a mother. And a damn good one at that. Okay, wait, hold on. I can wait. I can wait a very long time to start that portion of my life. But instead of dreading the possibility of ever bearing children, I can’t wait to outshine all the horrible parents out there and allow my children to be happy and do what they love. Because who doesn’t love doing what they love? Not this girl, that’s for damn certain. Oh, and to have a Candyland partner 24/7, cause I’m pretty talented at kids games.
Oh, and relationships? Used to hate them. Yup. This girl. Was afraid. Me? Afraid of anything? I know. Its hard to believe. But I was. So I ran away from any boy who expressed any sort of interest in me. I got what I wanted and I ran. Who needs a boyfriend? Not Rachel, Oh nooo. But, funny thing. I sit here and I say to myself — you need a man to have those kids you decided you want. And I think, hmm, that doesn’t sound so bad. I wouldn’t mind someone to lay with me underneath the stars and take me camping (hint, hint, fellas). Now, I’m not saying I’m ever going to want someone to buy my roses or anything like that, and Valentine’s Day is still a cheap, commercial holiday that I will never appreciate, but hey, I think I’m finally ready to settle down.
And I’m never going to donate my clothes after one wear. Sorry, but I like my clothes a little too much. Call me obsessed. Oh, and who needs a bunch on fancy clothes, all I need is a collection of sundresses, boots and sperrys. Oh, and leggings — as pants. Sorry world, I’m not giving that one up.
And at this point, a big city has lost a lot of its appeal. I wouldn’t mind spending my days in the country, raising my kids to say ma’am and sir and drink from a mason jar. My girls will be tan wear cut offs and my boys will play sports and drive trucks and fish, and we’ll all be happy.
Instead of dreading the future, I’m lookin’ forward to it. I’m going back to my roots, and thus we follow the Circle of Life. Oh, and you can be damn sure my kids will watch every Disney movie known to man. And now, ladies and gents, we’ve reached the portion of our show where I say: “Yes, Mama, you told me so”, let go of my rebel years and look forward to the future, where I see nothing but sunshine and happiness.