Whether we admit it or not, we all change over the years.
Maybe it’s appearance, personality, values, likes or dislikes, but it is inevitable that we go through a self-metamorphisis during the aging process. I’m the first to admit this. I’ve done the inventory to prove it…
The old me was shy as a child. The new me, well…isn’t.
The old me was called “Debbie” in high school. The new me became known as “Deborah” at college, thanks to to the way my full name was listed on the roster.
The old me wrote in a diary, recording what ‘Jason’ wore to school every day. The new me writes in a journal, and Jason’s pale yellow jeans are no longer mentioned.
The old me begged my mother for a couple of “carbon copies” from her checkbook, so I could pretend I was old enough to write them. The new me doesn’t WANT to write them.
The old me curled my hair with hot rollers. The new me invested in a flat iron.
The old me loved the smell of my Dad’s coffee, but never drank it. The new me chugs it.
Finally, the old me feared sitting in restaurant booths, hates doing laundry, and loves lipgloss.
Oddly enough, the new me STILL fears sitting in restaurant booths, hates doing laundry, and loves lipgloss.
Ok, so some things NEVER change.