Someday I'll Buy Iced Tea

I bought an iced tea at the convenience store around the corner from my house yesterday and it was the best thing in the world. Not the iced tea, itself, although I do love iced tea. But the experience was awesome. How amazing could a trip to the convenience store be?, you ask. Well, need I remind you that it's the little things - like talking to strangers and turning the age of my birthdate- that make me happy.

When I was little, I thought it was a shame we didn't live near a convenience store because I thought it would be so cool to just be like "Hey Mom, I'm popping to the store real quick to get an iced tea real quick! Be back real quick!" And then I could walk or ride my bike down the street all by myself, spend that mysterious green thing called money, and drink my iced tea while making my way back home. Real quick. But in Feeding Hills, we didn't have a convenience store around the corner. Our convenience store was conveniently located 4 miles away. Nor did I walk home from school, so I couldn't stop for a malt shake at the malt shop(pe) on my way home, like all the kids did in the 1950's of my imagination. My suburban town has some rural sections, and we lived in one rural part that was rapidly growing residencially with big new neighborhoods full of big new houses and no little old convenience stores.

You can imagine my excitement upon moving to New York City, with places for me to grab iced teas all the time, any time. Although, at $3 a pop, I don't grab a drink every day. I save my $3 for special occassions. Like for when I'm really thirsty. Or bored. And hence why yesterday's trip was such a treat: because I have now developed a love for Arizona's teas in huge cans for just (drumroll please) 99 cents! It is such a bargain! It's like 2 drinks for the price of half of 1! At this price, I can make up for all the drinks I wasn't able to buy as a little kid!

I knew when I was 12 that I was moving to NYC when I grew up. And so I knew then that I would someday live my dream of buying cans and bottles of artificially sugared drinks with fancy names like Snapple. Unfortunately, there were some other things that I aspired to when I was little that haven't lived up to their potential. For one, I played for hours upon end with my mini kitchen when I was young, and now I can't stand cooking. All those hours I was looking forward to doing the "real thing" and then it just panned out to disappointment. Also, I always thought it'd be cool to have my own set of keys and open the door to my house on my own. This movement we go through at least once a day as adults is often more of a burden than a simple routine, as my hands are often full of bags and the mail and my cell phone and my over-priced beverage from the convenience store, and the key always gets stuck while my screen door likes to hurl itself at my face if it can't be shut again in 1.3 seconds. And one more thing - when I was little, I couldn't wait to write out checks in a checkbook that was all my own. I practiced my signature every second I got. Now the thought of writing out a check is associated with a cringe as I think about my bank account, and my signature, although I think is pretty, is often misread, for I'm told my cursive "U" looks like an "N," and thus I possess the tax returns for Jodie Pfan.

Aside from those inconveniences, being a grown up is still just as cool as I thought it would be. I mean, I don't even have to ask my Mom whether or not I can grab a quick drink at the store - I can just go all on my own without asking anybody! Although that comes with it's drawbacks, too. Sometimes I could use a little help opening the door and definately with the cooking. And I wouldn't mind if Mom wanted to come to the convenience store with me. Drinking iced tea together is more fun. Whether you can get it real quick across the street or have to drive a million miles to get it.

Turning 24

Turning 24 was a dream come true! My whole life I was waiting to turn 24, because I would be 24 on the 24th of June! How cool would that be? I always envisioned something magical happening that night. Turning 24 meant turning into a woman. Growing up. Having it all figured out. Living in New York City. Being an actress. Having a boyfriend. Wearing mascara. Wearing pencil skirts. After all, my mother had me by that age, and so, I, too, would have everything I needed at 24.

And now, 24 has come and gone. What now?! There's nothing exciting about turning 25 because nothing can top "24 on 24." And, on top of it all, everyone thought I was crazy last year for saying it was my Golden Birthday - that once in a lifetime birthday when your age matches your date. Everyone looked at me as if I said "When I turn 24 I'll be able to fly!" and they all said "You're making that up!" And for awhile, I was convinced maybe I had made it up! My dreams got in the way of my reality, and I had imagined the existence of an expression! And now, what do you know, everyone is either 1) wishing me a Happy Golden Birthday, or 2) saying "Aww, too bad you missed your Golden Birthday." I didn't miss it!! You did!! Where were you well-wishers when I WAS celebrating my Golden Birthday? Why couldn't you have been happy with me then? People are saying "Golden Birthday" left and right this year - as if I talked about it so much last year that the idea spread like wild fire and finally caught on. My use of the expression all of last year triggered its tipping point. I put this golden idea into everyone's heads and now they're forgetting who gave them the idea!

You know what, since you all missed out on the cool factor of last year's birthday meaning, I'm just going to have a second Golden Birthday. Can I do that? I'm going to. 25 is going to be just as awesome as 24. Since y'all know what a Golden Birthday is now, you can all owe me that "Happy Golden Birthday" you missed last year. And sidenote, I did consult Google, and a Golden Birthday is in fact everything awesome I claim it to be.

Even though I had waited my whole life to turn 24, I can't now have nothing to look forward to. What sort of ingenue would I be if I lost all my hopes and dreams now? Maybe turning 24 and my Golden Birthday was just the start of the next wonderful chapter of my life.

And so now begins the story of Turning 25...

Survivor vs. Miss USA

OMG The Survivor finale is on tonight. I cannot wait. I wouldn't call myself a fanatic, just a fan. Although I have wanted to be on the show since high school. I finally sent in an audition tape last year. They didn't pick me. I don't understand why they didn't. Although if I got picked, it would have been for Season 19, where Russell, the most villanous villain quickly voted out all the smart girls. So, just as well. It would have been a shame to have arranged my schedule for the trip to a remote island somewhere halfway across the world and been voted out by Russell right away, and therefore not have that much of an impression on the viewers and therefore not become a recognizable face, and therefore not secure the in with casting directors. (Sidenote, I already have a recognizable face. I don't resemble anyone specific, except for that mysterious ambigious person people always think I remind them of. Who is this twin of mine? Where is this cute girl and why is she meeting everyone before me? My friend Elliot is convinced that the famous person I look like is Violet Incredible - the daughter in the movie "The Incredibles." Yes, the cartoon. But I'm not a cartoon. I know this for sure.)

It's only 7:03. I have 57 minutes to go before my very own Superbowl. What's on TV now that I can watch while I wait? 60 minutes on prescription drugs. Boring. 20/20 on missing girls my age. Scary. Miss USA. ... REALLY? We're STILL doing that beauty pageant?!

I find myself morphing from eager excitement to sudden rage. Amidst all the known pressures of society on women and the consequent body-image issues - anorexia, bulemia, bullying, low self-esteem, "Mean Girls" - we are STILL promoting Miss USA? We women today are bombarded everywhere we go with advertisements and images of beautiful women with their bronzed, toned bodies in bikinis and heels impossible to walk more than 5 feet in. We complain to each other about our weight, our height, the wrinkles on our face, the fat on our triceps, the width of our child-bearing hips. We can't open a magazine without feeling like we don't look young enough. We can't watch a TV show without feeling like we're thin enough. We can't leave the house without makeup, a stylish outfit, and our hair done. And we can't talk to our girlfriends without feeling guilty for having a cookie the night before. Why is EVERY woman faced with these issues? Why can't we avoid it? ...And why am I so entranced by the glitter on the TV???

Turn it off! I snap at myself. Don't give this bogus show the satisfaction of your viewer rating! But I can't help but think "Wow, her abs look great." "Tennesse is definately the cutest!" "Yes, my homestate is one of the prettier ones!" "Glitter!"

Ah! Stop! Do not let the glamour suck you in! All the girls hair and smiles look exactly alike. (Except for Colorado, who's hair is up in a ponytail. She's making a bold move, there, deviating from the norm. She's out.) Wow...their bodies are perfect. Maybe I shouldn't have that mint chocolate chip icecream I was saving for my Survivor finale...

Stop! When did Barbie come to life? And when did we decide Barbie was perfect? And when did we learn that promoting beauty over anything else was self-destructing? Oh right - we haven't officially learned that yet.

But this is not a plea for America to change. I could make assumptions about the general group of "women in America," or I could recount the specific times in my own life when myself or someone I know has been affected by society's defintion of beauty. This week alone: A girl at the gym today kept complaining to me about how she hasn't lost the last TWO pounds from her pregnancy. My girlfriend and I got drinks the other night and the whole time she kept reminding me - or herself - that it was ok to order food and another beer because she only had a salad for lunch. The 10 year old girl I babysit wants to start exercising more because she doesn't like the fat on her belly. Hearing all these comments breaks my heart.

I want to shake all these women and tell them "Don't worry about how you look or how much you weigh! You are wonderful just the way you are!" But they won't - and don't - believe me, because society is showing them otherwise. How did I become confident and why don't I let models in magazines get to me? Maybe it's because while other girls were worried about the right outfit and the right diet in high school, I was off running track, doing homework, and being in plays. My confidence with my body was an indirect effect of the confidence I had in myself growing up. (Ask my sisters - I didn't have much fashion sense in high school. One day senior year I tried wearing one of my favorite red sweaters and they shoved my 7th grade school picture in my face and reminded me that it's unacceptable to wear the same sweater 5 years later and I was dilussional if I actually thought it still fit.)

I don't have the answer yet, but it is becoming more and more of my mission in life to redefine beauty. There are others out there doing the same - Dove's campaign for real beauty, the recent addition of plus-sized models in Glamour magazine, the Girl Scouts, and Glee's recent episode with the cover of Christina Aguilera's "Beautiful." Some of my girlfriends and I formed a group in college that did just that - redefined beauty on our campus and got women talking about their bodies and their insecurities. Through devised-theatre, we broke free of stereotypes and formed a support group where we could share our insecurities, mount them on the stage, and somehow come out at the other end much more confident. Someday, I hope to have a theatre company that does just that - transforms people's confidence and makes people - young women AND men - not just believe, but KNOW, that they are enough just the way they are.

Someday we might get rid of Miss USA, too. Or maybe we could adapt it, by crowning the winner for her skills and talents, not her good looks. I know that the winner goes on to do good in the world - providing assistance in Haiti, visiting the children in Africa, and saving the whales and all that - but can somebody please tell me why we need a SWIMSUIT COMPETITION to decipher which of these do-gooders will volunteer her efforts around the world? I know it's hot in Africa, but they don't wear swimsuits all day long. (You can ask my sister about that, too, because she's going back there this summer to do some real good.)

I don't mean to be indignant towards the pageant or to stir up controversy. I'm just hoping those 10 year old girls out there, especially the one I babysit, aren't watching it right now and wishing they were somebody else, or worse, try to change who they are. I hope that this pageant isn't devastating future generations of women who could actually change the world and maybe cure cancer if they weren't so obsessed with their dress size. I'm simply sharing with you something I'm passionate about. Speaking of passion...it's 7:59 and I do believe I have some Survivor to watch. And some mint chocolate chip icecream that goes with it.