September 10, 2012
Can we talk about the fact that I dislocated my thumb this weekend while trying to pull up my pantyhose?
Who does that happen to?
Surely Princess Di never had these types of problems.
But me, certainly, and I'll tell you why:
Because those pantyhose were way too fucking small for that thing I got back there called an ass. Pair some stubborn pantyhose with an even more stubborn wearer, and you're bound for injury.
Despite saggy pantyhoe syndrome (you can't really say pantyhoe, but WATCH ME SAY IT ANYWAY), cute guy whose facial hair makes him look a little bit like Colin Farrell approaches.
He's standing front and center, inches away from my face.
He looks at me.
Before I could extend my hand, he startles me by saying, “Ashley, right?”
I mentally flip through my register of Chilean men I've met, seen and/or spilled vodka on, and this was not one of them.
“How'd you know?” I respond as casually as I can muster, while awkwardly shifting my weight from one leg to the other, because HIGH HEELS ARE THE DEVIL, and you know how you have to keep doing the shift so only one foot at a time is throbbing with unbearable, excruciating pain? Yeah, that move.
“I know you from the airport,” he says, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. “I work there.”
I lose it, immediately.
If this isn't a sure sign I spend WAY TOO MUCH TIME AT THE AIRPORT, I don't know what is. I couldn't catch my breath, I was laughing so hard. Apparently, Colin Farrell had met me once when I was flying to Spain last year. Apparently, I KNOW PEOPLE WHO WORK AT THE AIRPORT.
I couldn't have been more pleased.
In part because this just happened, in part because he was way cuter than I remembered, and in part because it's a funny story.
And it's all about the stories.
Not just having them to tell–but having them to live. They're the currency of life, stories. And we live for them–not just our own, but those of others, too. Because stories help us feel not so damn alone.
For every one of you ladies who nodded with empathy when I mentioned saggy pantyhose, or the high heel weight shift–you felt that much more understood in this big, fucking world of chaos. And if something as simple as that can make us feel more understood, imagine the effect of the bigger stories we tell? The ones from down deep. The ones we're most scared to tell, but the ones that make us most human.
The problem, however, is that many of us don't have the stories to tell, because many are still waiting for their story to start.
We're always still waiting for our real lives to begin–after we're in a good place with our career, after we're married, after we're settled down, after we drop those last 20 pounds, or after we finally write that book.
But there's only one problem.
Your story is already rolling.
Lights, camera, action began the day you were born.
And while your parents might have been the directors for the first part of your life, it's your turn, now.
And one day, when you finally get the chance to press rewind, I hope that you'll be downright aroused to watch what you made.
And I'm not even talking about the porn segment.
This post was inspired, in fact, by a guy named Robert.
Robert is a TMFproject crew member here. And at the beginning of the year, when I ran a challenge called INTOXICATE YOURSELF WITH POSSIBILITY, I asked folks to bare their souls, and tell us: What's the one thing you feel like a total asshole for not having accomplished yet?
In the comments, this was Robert's response:
So I want to ask: Robert, have you made any new stories?
And for the rest of you who commented that day, what stories are you busy writing? Have you followed through with our vow to keep the pages turning? From our Intoxicate Challenge:
Megan–Have you started your baking company?
Shannon, Meredith, Otiti, Jessica, John – Have you been WRITING?
Janine – How's the training for the 5K coming along?
Margaux – Learned any fun new Quechua words?
Kimberley – How's progress going on your art studio you wanted to open?
Bradley – Are you drawing?
Lisa – How goes the quest for balance?
Sara – What's the status on the recording of a CD of all your original music?
Magen – Are you doing any book binding?
And to everyone else who commented–are you doing what you wanted? What you hoped? What you NEED TO DO?
We're a short few months from the end of 2012.
Do NOT let this be another year that got away from you.
This is your year, god dammit.