I wanted a Subway sandwich.
I was out shopping with my mom. The adrenaline that comes from wildly spending money, mixed with perseverance to find a bag that looked like a Givenchy Antigona without the cost, left me famished.
We found ourselves in the mall.
“Do you want Subway?” I asked, stepping into the line.
I’ll be honest. My mother had no choice. My stomach lead my heart, and my heart led my feet, and my feet led me to Subway. It was basically the plot line of every romance novel ever written.
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All my life, I have been a hot slob. It’s who I am. It’s the way I’m comfortable. I tried to hide it but what was the use?
I was born this way.
My coming out was hardest on my mother, poor thing. She made comments like, you’ll grow out of it. I’m not too worried. Just wait until you have a place of your own.
While under my parents’ roof, I abode by their rules. I lived as closely to my natural lifestyle as possible without encroaching on their especially high standards of living. I didn’t want to embarrass them. I just wanted to be me.
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Over the course of this year, I have tried and signed up for many a new thing, all on the journey to become—what I refer to as—”a real adult grown up human person.”
Wifi bills. Accounting apps. Dental insurance.
And getting my own Costco card.
Oh yeah. I went out and dun’it. Got my photo taken and everything.
Stupid black-and-white photo on the back of that card makes me look like a smiling, psychopathic serial killer. But whatever.
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