August Confessions


There is a phenomenon that no one tells you about that occurs when you reach your late twenties, and I’ve found myself in quite the predicament: my girlfriends are either married with babies so cute your ovaries might burst, or 21 & shuttin’ down the club on the reg. And then there’s me… Smack dab in the middle. Let me just say that it is VERY challenging trying to find that in-between groove for my own life as a single girl back in Arizona! I’m not a girl, not yet a woman. Not Michael Kors, but not yet a Birkin.

So what’s a girl to do?! I feel like it’s highly inappropriate for me to step foot into the Bermuda Triangle that is Old Town Scottsdale more than once bi-weekly While fun, everyone has only 1 speed in that environment. It’s like there’s something in the stripper scented air freshener that they blast at Bottled Blonde that aids in a swifty blackout– there is simply no such thing as cute casual sipping + enlightening convo in those establishments. It’s safe to say that the blackout or backout lifestyle just isn’t my thing anymore. But what else am I supposed to do!? Take up baking? You guys KNOW I’m not into sugar or carbs… A few weeks ago I spent 5 days in Newport Beach to celebrate my favorite human on earth Sawyer’s 21st, and let me tell you… it was a time I will never forget {or remember, depending on the day!} We had a B-L-A-S-T & I feel so so so lucky that these little chicks have adopted me into their friends group, especially during this time of dire need. God I love you girls, you keep me young! {Can’t you just see me in that hot pink velour tracksuit now? #MomGoals} When I rose from the dead 48 hours after returning from that trip, still in shambles, I finally understood why so many party girl celebrities are admitted to the hospital for exhaustion. “A little party never hurt nobody” is a LIE!!! I hurt! For many days! I’d like to think that those perfect summer days on the boat docked in Emerald Bay, drinking champagne from the bottle in matching red bikinis, dancing + laughing till we cried with my baby besties, was also going away party for my young & {extra} wild years as I wiggle into my more sophisticated {yet probz still a littttle wild} late twenties. It’s the end of an era.

On the flip side, while my besties with babies are so fun to hangout with, they now have husbands to tend to, dinner to make, and children to bathe and put to bed… {SWOON} I pray that my time with them is like looking into a crystal ball, as I am pretty ready to exit stage left on this awesome phase of my life to enter Wifeyhood in the {somewhat} near future. That being said, I know that the decision of who’s hand I take into this next chapter is a little more important than deciding which shade of Born This Way foundation I’m going to commit to at Sephora. The return policy on husbands isn’t quite as flexible. So alas, I will wait patiently for the right potential to step it up. I have to say that the best part of being 27 is that I’m so calm, peaceful, and confident, unlike the psychosis of the brain that I suffered from in my early twenties. My apologies to the ghosts of boyfriends past… mild schitzo vibes. *Hairflip* Oh well! At this point, I feel so well-equipped with the life experience I’ve had so far, that it really takes a lotttt to stir up anxiety in my soul these days {Not counting the morning after consuming a few too many bevvies, my moody blues hangover anxiety is currently at an all-time high. Feeling crushed by things like stepping on my Pomeranian’s paw 3 years ago + texting all of my friends to ask if they still like me is not uncommon!}

But 27 isn’t so bad, and it’s the little moments and small victories that make me proud: Like BEING OKAY when things didn’t work out with my ex this time… And having the maturity to dodge any further contact. Knowing that the “show must go on,” and using my heartbreak to reflect on what I want the real thing to be like & spending my time working on becoming my best self yet. It’s how instead of looking for revenge {besides a fire selfie, of course} when I felt so betrayed and broken, I went to church and unapologetically bawled my eyes out. How I dove into His word instead of diving to the bottom of a bottle of Pinot G to make my spirit right again. It’s how I had the courage to get back into the dating scene, but then took a step back & gave myself another “time out” when I knew it was too soon to give my heart to someone new. It’s the reaction I now have when people tell me the mean things that others have gossiped about me: while it still hurts my feelings {more than I’m willing to admit}, I understand that what they’re saying says a lot more about them than it does about me… and that maybe responding with LOVE to their hate is a lesson that I’m intended to teach. It’s that yummy age where I finally cut all ties with toxic, draining, dramatic people, and I’m left with a roster of the most incredible souls who love me unconditionally, build me up, and support me in good times + in bad– which is how it should’ve been all long. So in conclusion, life back home is good. It’s sweet. It’s hot. And I’m just figuring it all out day by day…

And maybe, just maybe… It’s time to trust in the magic of new beginnings. Again.


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