First Love

I was in the shower this morning and it hit me - if my breasts sag any more then I'll be in danger of tripping over them.

Oh wait, that's not my topic.

Do you remember your first love? You know - the one over which you took great pains to be 'ready' should you run into them? Just saying their name was enough to make you giddy for hours and you can't stop smiling like a fool when someone mentions them. Maybe you were in high school and that One Perfect Soul was in your history class and you absolutely obsessed over seeing them. Just a glance of their beloved face was enough to cause you to float on air the rest of the day.

Then, if you were really, really lucky - they brushed past you in the hall and their sleeve touched your arm. You swore to your friends you would never ever wash that arm again.

The motherlode came when they actually SPOKE to you. Ah...the sheer rapture of just hearing their sexy voice directed at you - their unknown love of their life. For the next two days you relive those seconds when they spoke to you...'did you know you have a bugger hanging out of your nose?' and you swear those words were spoken only to you and you alone. Never had something so utterly poetic been spoken to anyone else in the world. You Have Found The Greatest Of All Loves.

Remember that?

My first crush was the fourth grade - his name was Phillip and he moved away in the fifth. I was crushed, inconsolable....until the next cute boy came along. Yeah, I'm fickle at times. :)

My first real 'love' was in high school. His name was Johnny Jones (how original) and he worked at the skating rink. His co-worker (Doug of the frosted hair) was my best friend's crush so we went through the agonies of the damned getting ready to go skating.

First the hair had to be curled to within an inch of its life. Back in the early 80's this meant wrapping your hair in the curling iron and brandishing a can of Aqua Net at the same time. You sprayed your hair ON THE IRON until it crackled. Once you saw a whiff of smoke - it was ready.

Next was the makeup - heavy on the blue and applied with a palette knife. I wore so much mascara that I was in danger of gluing my eyes shut.

Next - the clothes. Now this was the most important part! Blue jeans - VERY TIGHT. If you could fit your finger between the waistband and your skin, they were too loose. We would dry our pants for HOURS before laying on the bed to zip them up. It was also the very last thing we'd put on as we didn't want our clothing to stretch before our loves saw us in our immaculate state.

Shirt - yes, a little cleveage was necessary - a lot was better. The goal was to fall down on the floor so they'd skate over and see if you were okay. Lots of cleavage would leave a good impression...on the floor maybe. :)

So this morning I was thinking, I don't believe that we ever fall in love with the same enthusiasm as we do that first time. People come and go from our lives and we begin building up this wall between us and the world where we guard our hearts even if only a little. I think it's sad and we're cutting ourselves off from the human experience even though it is understandable.

So your mission, should you chose to accept it, sometime this week find something that just amuses the hell out of you and THROW yourself into it with all the enthusiasm of a three year old. I think we would all be better off if we'd embrace that child side of ourselves and let them out to play. :)