IDK, my BFF Jill? Or, Adventures of the Dramatic Teenage Girl

Remember when everything was the BEST or WORST thing ever to happen to ANYONE in the whole wide WORLD?

Remember when we were 13 and had our first “boyfriend” and we came home from school all gushing because “Bobby” wrote us a note and we loved him so much and he loved us and there were butterflies and rainbows following us around in the halls at school, and home on the bus, and all the way to family dinner where we gleefully shared the news with our parents? OR when we gleefully tried to hide it from our parents because we knew they hated boys of all shapes and sizes BUT they found out anyway all about us and “Bobby” and our “true love”? However the story went for you, I know you know what I’m talking about. Wasn’t it just the grandest time of our life? And then a week after he “asked us out” and we were “official” one of two things happened: 1) he met “Mindy” and her growth spurt happened before ours (bitch) so her ta-tas were enormous and he left us for her, a tragic event which gave us a bleak look into our future of being ousted by bustier biotches. Or 2) Dad found out, grounded us (“forever” probably), threatened a convent, Catholic boarding school for girls, and/or death, and we couldn’t see “Bobby” again after hours because we were so uncool. Thank GOD we had English class together, otherwise our heart would have been permanently broken for the REST of our LIFE and we NEVER would have recovered because dad is just SO MEAN and how could he DO this to us??? UGH life was so hard back then. If only we’d known it was just hormones we could have shrugged it off and told Bobby to go find some other bimbo. If only that “boys have cooties” thing stuck around into puberty, life would have been so much easier (although, really and truly who actually believed boys had cooties and actually wanted them to stay away? Don’t try to be the cool girl, you know it was all a ploy so they’d think we weren’t foolishly in love 24/7. I’m convinced boys are the only ones who ever actually believe in the cooties thing).

But wait, there’s more. Because THEN we started high school! Ah, high school. Such awesomely thrilling times to be had there, boys boys everywhere! And they were all after us because we had blossomed (Mindy got fat, ha!) and maybe we weren’t super popular but some of the cute ones liked us, still unsure of whether we’d “put out” or not. Well they’d find out, wouldn’t they? Then we went to homecoming and it was SO romantic and he brought a corsage AND a teddy bear and we thought OhmiGOSH we will live SO happily ever after it isn’t even funny. And we were dancing (leaving room for Jesus of course) and laughing and taking SUCH cute pictures together and we just knew every girl wanted to be us because we were so fab. Then we looked in the corner of the gym and there was DAD again! He was RUINING our lives and WHY couldn’t he just leave us alone for once for crying out loud?!?! [side note: if you are offended or becoming defensive at this little story, you need to re-examine your life, because girl, this was you no lie…that’s why I’m using “us” and “we” and the overly dramatic adjectives, it is not an accident.] Yes, he was there to “protect” us from big bad boys. UGH he didn’t know anything because obviously Bobby II was SO nice and he LOVED us too, more than the first Bobby even! And that was a lot. So there. But he didn’t listen to any of our arguments and still made us leave early and we missed out on ALL the fun.

Then we turned 16 (and 3 months, obviously) and had our *angels singing in the heavens* drivers license! BAM now it was freedom time! SIKE. Because now we had the EARLIEST curfew of ANYONE in the history of the WORLD (obviously we didn’t know about places like the middle east where women can’t even go out in public) and it was so UNFAIR. And of course he told us that “life wasn’t fair” and we could just deal with it or…yes, that’s right, go to a convent, Catholic boarding school for girls, or maybe military school, depending on how pissed off we made him. Then to make things worse, anytime a boy even came over just to hang out (geeze!), dad was all “checking on us” and stuff. Completely UNcool.  SO uncool, in fact, that boys really didn’t want to come over more than once or twice before the big-forearm-scowly-face-I’m-cleaning-my-guns-routine was too much to handle.

It’s all good though because a few years later, we went to college and went CRAZY with all the unsupervised time with boys. Two words: Planned Parenthood, thank goodness for them [JK Poppa Pants, definitely never went there, just go with the story]. Anyway, eventually things got better for us and now we are all big girls now and able to look back on those times of hell for our fathers and reflect honestly. Ah yes, the point of this entry! Finally.

Miss Sassy Pants would like to send a formal letter of appreciation out to her very own Poppa Pants, and all other dads out there who have endured, are enduring, or will endure the wrath of pre-teen and teenage girls (this includes you, cousin of mine with the adorable daughter…at least you’ve got a few years to get hyped up). We were HORRIBLE and we recognize and would also like to give a formal apology. I’m sure we can all think of a couple a billion times in which we were hindered from doing what we really wanted to do, when actually dear old dad was saving us from getting the herp or some other tragedy we didn’t know about.  And maybe we cried a little less than we could have if we’d been allowed to hang out with “Bobby” more. But be honest ladies, he was smelly and not all that cute. Now that we are grown ass women, we can do better and we know it. So hey Dad, sorry I was such a pain in the ass. Love you.

My jeans are still my life though, trust.

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