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Sometimes when I am stuck watching mind-numbing cartoons with my kids, I daydream about all the ways I’d fix them. I’d dress up like Mark Cuban and demand to see the Imagination Movers profit numbers. I’d burn Caillou’s house down as they slept… kidding.
Here is how I imagine the finale of Max & Ruby. It takes place the day Max turns 18, gets sick of Ruby’s bossy shit, and peaces out, Half-Baked style.
Gosh this makes me all giggling and tingly and totally missing first kisses… sorry Andy.
I want to build a time machine to go back in time to relive them all.
Tell me about your very first kiss.
I was in 3rd grade and invited the birthday party of the boy who lived next door. I was one of the only girls there, and we were all in his basement playing hide and seek, and I was so super nervous because my biggest crush ever, blonde flat-top Justin (the kid always had a flat top haircut with lighting bolts shaved in the sides. God he was the coolest), was hiding behind a pile of pool chemical boxes with me, so I was all giggly and looked super adorable in my new blue dress and white tights.
I had to pee really bad, but the hell I was going to give up my chance to be thisclose to him, plus getting in and out of my tights was a bitch and I totally needed adult help, so I held it. And held it. After, like, 5 minutes of hiding, we got bored and The Bangles as my witness, Justin leaned over and quickly kissed me on the lips. No words were exchanged, and it was as quick as a bee sting.
But, in all my excitement, I completely forgot to concentrate on holding my bladder, and I peed right there on the cement next to blonde flat-top Justin.
I didn’t even give Justin a chance to notice or scream out in disgust. I ran upstairs, grabbed my coat and ran all the way home crying in wet tights. My legs were chapped and I waddled around bowlegged for a fucking week. But I never forgot my first kiss.
So Friday I did my own personal equivalent of the polar bear plunge, and put up the yearly photo of me in a bathing suit, nay.. a bikini, and it’s become one of my favorite traditions. It’s like a starter gun to my spring/summer self esteem, which needs to top off at a higher level than my fall/winter self esteem, that mostly hides itself in cute jeans and tall boots and giant distracting cups of hot chocolate.
Last night, I took a look back at the journey, and it’s so amazing to see how far I’ve come with my body, and where this journey has taken me; stripping down on a TED stage, heckled on Huffington Post and the UK Daily Mail, strutting my stuff on Wendy Williams, and even featured on Good Morning America… all because a chubby girl from Ohio decided to like herself in a bathing suit. What a long, strange trip it’s been.