“Mom, you’re SUCH a GEEK!” 


I don’t know precisely when it happened, but at some point I’m afraid I ceased to be cool in the conventional sense.


I’m fairly confident I used to be cool.  As a matter of fact, at age 17, I was so cool I could drink half of my high school football team under the table.  I was so majorly cool when I was 18 that I was booted from a Whitesnake concert for “bad behavior”.  And – at 19 – I was so incredibly cool, my memories of Spring Break ’89 include only the constant replay of Guns-N-Roses “Welcome To The Jungle” filtering through a drunken haze and the burn I received from the muffler of a Harley I climbed on whilst wearing only a string bikini.  I said I was cool, I never said I was smart. 


I was not without my morals.  I had two major codes of honor by which I modeled my life at that time: 1). Never take drugs that have initials.  What a shocker it was the day I learned “acid” was also called “LSD”.  Whoops.  2). Never sleep with a friend’s boyfriend- unless, of course, he’s REALLY cute and professes his undying love for me. 


Upon closer inspection, the former “me” doesn’t really seem all that cool.  My high school yearbook reveals the truth.  That enormous hairdo, layer upon layer of lip gloss and neon blue eyeliner say it all.  We are all often slaves to the trends of our times, but the REALLY cool kids have never had to TRY to be cool.  They just ARE.


I suppose that means I must really be cool now – because I have utterly stopped trying.  That isn’t to say that I have thrown in the towel.  It’s just that I am finally comfortable in my own newly wrinkled and stretch-marked skin.  They are symbols of the battles I’ve faced that have shaped the woman I am today.


What’s really cool is when your 5-year-old daughter tells you that you look like a fairy princess when you don a dress and wear your hair down for a change.  What is cool is to be able to see all your blessings and know you are living a real-life “happily ever after”.  (One of those blessings is that I SURVIVED being so cool in my teens.)  And, even though my “eight-going-on-sixteen-year-old” sometimes calls me a geek, I know I’m the first person she’ll run to when she has a nightmare or a problem. 


Cool used to be about everyone else’s perception– now I know cool is all about perception of one’s self.  Man, is that cool or what?


by Kasie Bolling

Published in: on December 21, 2008 at 4:14 pm  Leave a Comment  

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