I was somewhere in my mid-teens attending high School in the San Joaquin Valley of California. I went to a mostly hispanic high school in a rural, suburban city and we were in the throws of the Prop 8 fight. As an ardent Mormon (and I was ardent at that time), I heeded the counsel of my religious leaders and strongly opposed the legalization of gay marriage. I was chatting about it with some of my fellow conservative friends and I specifically remember saying, “I don’t care if gay people want to be together, seriously. But don’t call it marriage because that’s NOT what it is.”
If I could go back and wash those words out of my mouth, I would. I’m embarrassed by my ignorance and ego. I was the worst back then, truly. I would let out really loud and obnoxious coughs (fake) when I passed anyone that was smoking to make sure they knew that they were gross. I would pass families at the mall and think “you don’t really love your kids. How could you when you don’t belong to the Church that values family more than anyone else?” I would make sure to compliment the girl at school the day she wore non-skinny jeans as if I was training her to dress more like me, to wear the clothes I thought looked nice.
I was stuck up and felt superior to other people in a lot of ways. I thought I was smarter, more talented, and definitely more moral.
I’m glad to say (or at least I’d like to think) that I am a very different person now. In fact, I’m proud thinking that my teenage self would be really disappointed in me if they met me today. For one, I’m a democrat and a pretty far left-leaning one at that. I am a feminist. I have three piercings in my right ear. I occasionally shop on Sunday. I own a crop top, and I no longer take at face value the religion that my adolescent mind found such a profound superiority in.
But not all things are different from what I envisioned for my future. I have a husband that I adore. I have the cutest toddler on the planet (it’s all relative). I work in a high-rise building downtown, something I always dreamed about because it seemed so glamorous. I own a home, can afford to eat out every now and then and visit my family out of state.
I spend my time writing, working, Facebooking-ing, letting my toddler use my head and shoulders as a racetrack for his toy cars, and trying to fix the world in my own little ways. I also eat cookies, like, lots and lots of cookies.