May 08, 2009
Seventeen Again, Again
Last week, Heather and I went to see "Seventeen Again" because... I don't know. Now we're fans of the cast of "High School Musical"? I really have no explanation for the whole event. Nor do I have an explanation of how they think Troy Bolton in any way resembles Chandler Bing.
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Regardless, the whole fiasco led to this conversation:
H: so, I had a rant in my mind about how you and me watching teen movies is like dudes watching fast and the furious-type action flicks...
H: and then it fell right out of my head.
PW: onto the floor?
H: except for the part where I acknowledge that my actual teen fantasy is to have my teenage body back.
H: I think it fell into my bra. but if I go looking in there, I will never finish my day.
PW: HA!
PW: how did it fall out? I mean, it's not like it's competing for space with all the OTHER really deep thoughts in there.
H: oh, I know what happened...I had it in my head last night, and then I somehow had a dream about somehow getting sent bacck to 1986 into teenagerdom, but with all the knowledge I already have. and yet, still a nightmare.
PW: If I had my teen body back, I'd be a hooker. and a really rich one
PW: and I'd dress like a ho every min of every day
PW: I'm thinking about my waist and hearing "sunrise, sunset" in my head
PW: "where is that little waist I once knew"
H: oh my god. I miss my tiny thighs! and that waist! yes!
PW: I miss sweat not collecting under my boobs
PW: but that's probably TMI
H: heh.
H: I miss not having to try shit on.
H: just knowing it'll fit and look great.
PW: if I had all my knowledge and went back to HS, I could score soooo much pot
Those must be encouraging words for my mother to read. But, see, Mom? You must've done something right because I wasn't a pot-smoking hooker in high school! Happy Mother's Day!
Which reminds me of this outfit from a wedding I was at over the summer:
I really, really wanted to hate her for wearing skin-tight, banana-yellow satin and snake-skin stillettos to a wedding. But I had to be honest with myself -- if I had her body, I'd be calling all kinds of attention to myself. A flashing neon hat would not be out of the question.
The moral is: If you are seventeen, relish your body! And you totally shouldn't be reading this. Go clean your room.