Thursday, October 18, 2012

I like to assume things.

It never really occurred to me (until recently) how short I actually am.  I know that sounds weird since I have been 5’2” since about the 7th grade when I stopped growing and had to put my WNBA dreams on hold. Lately I have been hanging out with some exceptionally tall people, but overall, most of my other friends are about half a foot taller than me.  Luckily I have long legs and plenty of high heels so I have always blended in with the normal stature of society. Although I always knew I wasn’t “tall” per se, I guess part of me just always assumed most people had to climb on their kitchen counters to reach things off the second shelf.   
This recent epiphany made me realize I assume a lot of things…
I always assume I can run into target for just a “few things” and even make a list to stay on track. It never fails that I end up roaming the isles thinking, “I need this,” and I leave spending a hundred dollars because how could life go on if I did not have my 7,493th candle?
I STILL assume I can bake cookies, eat two and satisfy my sweet tooth.  I usually regain consciousnesses mid way through consuming half the tray wondering what happened.  I then assume I can eat a carrot for every cookie, and it will balance itself out.
I assume everything I make off Pinterest will look exactly the same as the picture.  I like to think I am Matha Stewart, but mostly I just end up covered in spray paint or third degree glue gun burns.
Despite years of evidence against this claim, I will always assume I am capable of going out for ONE drink on a Tuesday.  I usually find myself sitting at a 4 am bar in front of a slew of empty glassware when the lights come on.  I then assume Taco Burrito House will induce my sobriety before work.
And last but not least…
I constantly assume that when I say, “I am never drinking again,” I won’t.  Seriously, THIS time I really mean it.  I would probably swear on the life of my first born since I have never meant anything so much in my entire life.  A few hours later I have a Bloody Mary in hand, and I’m thanking God I don’t have children yet.

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