Friday, July 27, 2012

Home on a Friday night? Never!

When I was a teenager you would never find me home on a Friday night.

Picture me at sixteen... long dishwater blonde, mile high hair with a spiral perm. Braces on teeth, tight-rolled stonewashed jeans and some type of t-shirt. Frequently, a Hyper Color shirt that changed colors when you touched it or, perspired *cough*.

A typical Friday for me would begin by driving myself to school in a 1987 Chevy Cavalier with a bumper sticker that read "Hey Dude"...yes you read that correctly. Arrive to school, sometimes late. If not late, would park my car and hang out in the smoking area in front of my high school.
(Some grown ups thought it was a good idea to have a smoking area at school...for the first time ever, I agreed with an adult)

Feeling happy that it was Friday, I would hang with my friends til the bell rang. Go to first hour and each class after. Usually, a mid morning nap in history, then finally....lunch time!

More smoking area after lunch. Finish rest of the day, all the while getting more and more excited for that last bell to ring and then SWEET WEEKEND FREEDOM!

Talking to everyone in the halls, trying to figure out the most happening events for the weekend ahead.

Drive home from school with radio blaring Poison or some other hairband. Usually would have a few passengers to drop off and then head home for a nap.

Wake up from nap, take a shower. Redo mile high hair and 80's makeup and head out the door to a party somewhere. Anywhere! Sometimes it was a field, sometimes it was a house. It really didn't  matter as long as I was NOT at home.

Back then there were no cell phones. Not even pagers yet. If they existed, we didn't know about it. No communication with parents whatsoever! Just out causing trouble and having fun. Not a care in the world.

That is how I spent my youth. From my teen years all the way through my twenties.

When I think of it now, those days seem so far away. Now, you're lucky to see me at the grocery store on a Friday.  I am such a homebody.

There is something intriguing about your teen years. That first step toward freedom from your parents is something words can't describe. It is almost an anxious feeling, but a good anxious. The possibilities seemed endless.

Funny, now when I drive away from my parents house, I cry.


  1. What a great post. It is ironic that what we run from in our youth is sometimes what we cherish as adults.

  2. Thanks for the comment! Yes it's bizarre how things turn around. I can't even comprehend why those things use to me so important to me at one point.


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