A friend asked me an interesting question today involving time travel: At which age would I return to, knowing everything I know now, and start all over again if I could?
With almost little to no hesitation at all I said, “17 – my last semester of high school.”
My reasons for that answer could fill a book, but essentially I made that decision based on two general facts:
- I was such a weird child/teenager. No matter how much I’ve learned since then, I can’t ever go back to those years with even a morsel of confidence.
- I was the worst grown-up for like, 6 years. I have genuinely obsessed over some of the mistakes I made in early adulthood. I would love nothing more than to go back and
break up with that one guydo it all over again, knowing what I know now about life.
The point is, I’ve clocked a few miles on the old body speedometer, and I’d like to think I’ve developed a few valuable nuggets of wisdom along the way. I’ve even been told a time or two that I give some pretty legit advice.
This is my attempt at imparting some of it.
[I set out to make this one long post, but it got entirely too long. So instead, I’ve decided to make this a sort of series. We will see how it works out.]
Nuggets of Wisdom From A Twenty-Eight-Year-Old Who Knows Almost Nothing
To be fair, without it, I wouldn’t have broken into a public pool with my future husband. But seriously, have you ever been friends with a 40-year old woman who hits up the bars every weekend? Exactly. The answer is no because gals like that rarely have friends who know how to read (a fact I have deduced about you by the simple fact you are reading this blog right now – btw, thanks!). The whole “What happened last night??” just isn’t funny anymore. Maybe it’s because if that happened these days with my friends it would be more like, “Where is my kid? I totes blacked out last night. Why are the cops here?”
And by all means, get drunk every now and again – I’m not trying to wet blanket you to death. Go to brunch on Sundays hung-over with your family. Take shots and freak dance with Grandma at a wedding (just not mine, ok?). Have fun.
But part of growing up is learning to drink responsibly. It’s about knowing your limits, pushing them once in a while (like at Christmas when it becomes downright necessary), and having the sense to know when to GO HOME. Like for example, when all 5 of your friends (really just 2, you’re wasted) are begging you, “Don’t you think you should go home???” It’s because you probably should.
Oh! And always have the foresight to prepare for a ride home. Unless you already are home, in which case, bottoms up!
And if shame and embarrassment aren’t your primary concern, just remember that alcohol will make you nice and fat if you aren’t careful. A glass of red wine averages 125 calories; a bottle of beer, 200, and there can be upwards of 250 calories in a whisky and Coke.
I just practice more of a “time and a place” mentality with my drinking now (read: now). Best-case-scenario, I eat less at dinner, drink two glasses of wine, and cut a rug mom-style on the dance floor until the band asks me politely to leave.
**A smaller yet related, undeserving-of-a-entire-post nugget of wisdom: It doesn’t matter whether or not you have kids, once you hit 28 you start dancing like your mom. It’s terrifying.
-Brit, shaken not stirred
Next Up: Dress For Your Body (Also known as, “Are you sure about that tube top?”)