Inside Gigi's World

August 30th.

The beginning of my story.

My mother was 5 days late from her due date. It was exceptionally hot, and my dad almost missed my birth. She wasn’t able to have an epidural and it was painful. My dad was convinced I was going to be a boy because he had two sons already. I had a head full of hair which my mother attributes to the nasty heartburn she had for the endurance of her pregnancy. My head was huge, and it hurt like hell. All fun little takeaways from the story of my birth.

I guess I have always moved when I was ready; not when other people wanted me to.

Even when a situation was not within my grasp, I typically did what I wanted. Much to a lot of people’s dismay, including my parents.

There has always been a brutal and blunt honesty that has always found a way to escape my short stature through my overly large mouth. I almost never intend to be mean or unkind however when you’re telling someone they are being an asshole, it usually never sounds nice. I have found a way to make most people feel uncomfortable at least once, even if that was not my intentions.

My friends and family have always introduced me with a warning or an apology that usually sounds something like, “We never know what she’s going to say,” or “If someone is going to say it, it’ll be her.” One of my favorites off of the introduction list that accompanies my introduction is, “Sorry for what she says before she says it.”

I’ve never feel as though I have to give people the “fair warning” speech when I open my mouth, but I am always a little flattered when some people feel as though they do.

I once had a co-worker named Margie. I loved working with her, she was a plethora of shenanigans and knowledge. I learned a lot about life from her and our talks that we used to have. At one point she told me, “You’re funny but you’re a different kind of funny. You’re the kind of funny that makes people uncomfortable because you say what everyone else is thinking but doesn’t have the courage to say it. You make people uncomfortable and because of that, they laugh.”

To this day, it is still one of the kindest, most genuine things a person has ever said to me.

In my years on this planet, I have come to realize that I am not at all what people want me to be nor except me to be. Maybe for some people that’s disappointing, maybe for some it means always being surprised…

Here’s the best part, I don’t give a shit either way. People’s reactions to me is not my burden to wear. My crown is heavy enough.

I move how I want to, when I want to and where I want to.

Nothing has changed since my mother’s pregnancy for me, and I don’t think there is going to be any slowing down.

I turned 38 yesterday.

38 years old.

A number that seemed really big when I was a child and one that I thought I may never see as a teenager.

It is not a milestone birthday by the definition of “milestones” however it still feels like one that should be celebrated. They all do.

As I sit here with my bucket list from last year, I start to mentally check off the things I have done and the things I have not.

I went to three new places that I have never been before. (Even more than 3. I’ll take that as a victory.)

The tap class I taught; I think was a success.

I went to the flea market and brought home a new friend.

I stuck out school for the Fall and Spring semester and nailed a 3.93 GPA

I was Sophia from the Golden Girls, a role I have been training for my whole life.

I wrote and wrote and wrote some more and just when I didn’t think I could write anymore, I wrote more. Including my first short story and the first chapter of a book.

I did make it to a concert, the Mixed Tape Tour 2022 with New Kids on the Block, Salt-N-Pepa, En Vogue and Rick Astley.

I made it to the gym…on occasions.

I got some more ink.

I did drink more water…on some days…when I was really thirsty.

I laughed more than I cried (I think).

Some of my cross-stitch projects got finished.

And if I went back and looked, I am sure I probably took one picture a week.

All in all, I’ll take this past year as a win.

The biggest gift 37 gave me? The knowledge that I can do pretty much anything. I should have given up on school and thrown in the towel, but I didn’t and that was me. I stayed up all night, slept when I had time. I washed dishes while my book was propped in front of me on the window to get caught up on reading. I folded laundry while I participated in zoom classes, made it through a class that almost killed me and feel like I am a better person for it. I seen every obstacle in my way and was too stubborn, too arrogant and too pig headed to tap out. I kicked through the heavy metal doors in front of me and walked right through, all the while balancing two jobs and two teenagers. I did it and now I am halfway there.

Just keep swimming kid, that’s what I keep telling myself.

37 gave me the ability to not quit on myself which I have done for years.

37 gave me the sense of knowing what’s worth getting upset about-which as it turns out really isn’t all that much-and the wisdom to know when it is time to let go.

37 gave me peace in knowing that not everything is in my control, nor should it be.

I liked 37.

The only things on my bucket list for 38 are simple.

Wear my sneakers more. I have a bad ass collection. I never wear them because I don’t want to ruin them. Just like me, they will eventually turn to dust, I’m wearing those shoes everywhere.

I’d still like to go on more new adventures,

And God Damn, I plan on kicking school’s ass again this year.

August 29th, I kissed 37 goodbye as I tucked myself into bed. I was grateful and thankful for the people in my life that matter. The people that choose to be here because they want to be and not because they are obligated. At 37 I learned, at this age, no one is obligated to you and the people that are around are an invaluable tool to you as a person and your growth.

August 30th, I woke up 38. Still the same person I was 6 hours before. I look the same in the mirror. My mouth is still as foul as is was the day before. My bones are no worse for the wear and my teenagers still think I am lame while my husband thinks I am still the fanciest squirrel on the block. TLC’s “Hat 2 Da Back” still hits the same way and the handful of Caramellos that I had for breakfast were just as sweet as they had been the breakfast before.

I celebrated the welcoming of 38 the way I wanted to.

So, I’m a day late writing this? Yesterday was too good of a day to be stuck in front of a computer and that’s the gift of 38 already, the knowledge of knowing that,

Happy 38 and day to me.