Much Better Than "Frost Yourself"

So, I was rummagaing around in "the room" - you know, the one that should be made up nicely by now into a guest room but instead contains boxes of stuff that is apparently not necessary for daily living (since it hasn't seen the light of day since moving in February) and taunts me from behind closed doors. It's mostly old letters. I need to read them before I toss them, you see, and there are oh, several hundred...from my college days and mission days and good times and bad times...and certainly someone will find them fascinating sometime, will they not? That's the historian in me - the one who once wrote an A+ paper about a random missionary in South Africa based on letters he wrote to an English governor...

And scrapbooks, or starts of scrapbooks. Mostly hilariously teen-angsty, but strangely dear to me...Anyway, I was rummaging to find a letter of recommendation from an English teacher in high school because a phrase of it has been begging for a blog about me, and I can't remember it and I can't find it...but I came across this in the front of one of those scrapbooks. I remember it being a double page ad in a magazine and being strangely touched by it, but I can't remember what product it advertised.

Anyway, I liked it so much back then that I typed it up and printed it, with dot matrix printer, even, and pasted it into a binder of my high school years. And all these years later, I still like it for some reason, and thought you might enjoy it, too.

You were born a daughter.

You looked up to your mother.

You looked up at your father.

You looked up at everyone.

You wanted to be a princess.

You thought you were a princess.

You wanted to own a horse.

You wanted to be a horse.

You wanted your brother to be a horse.

You wanted to wear pink.

You never wanted to wear pink.

You wanted to be a veterinarian.

You wanted to be president.

You wanted to be the president’s veterinarian.

You were picked last for the team.

You were the best one on the team.

You refused to be on the team.

You wanted to be good in Algebra.

You hid in Algebra.

You wanted the boys to notice you.

You were afraid the boys would notice you.

You started to get acne.

You started to get bre*sts.

You started to get acne that was bigger than your bre*sts.

You wouldn’t wear a bra.

You couldn’t wait to wear a bra.

You couldn’t fit into a bra.

You didn’t like the way you looked.

You didn’t like the way your parents looked.

You didn’t want to grow up.

You had your first best friend.

You had your first date.

You had your second best friend.

You had your second first date.

You spent hours on the telephone.

You got kissed.

You got to kiss back.

You went to the prom.

You didn’t go to the prom.

You went to prom with the wrong person.

You spent hours on the telephone.

You fell in love.

You fell in love.

You fell in love.

You lost your best friend.

You lost your other best friend.

You really fell in love.

You became a steady girlfriend.

You became a significant other.

You became significant to yourself.

Anyone relate to any of the lines? The only thing it left out was becoming a mother, but maybe that's a whole level of significance that they couldn't cover in two pages, or didn't dare, since it was the late 80s. Hmmmm. I'd love to know what you think. This little heart-tugging ad still speaks to a samll part of me somehow - wish I could remember what they wanted me to buy after reading it, because I think I'd do it now. After I get me a right-hand diamond, of course - don't those ads just draw you in?! (Women of the world, raise your right hands!)How do they get to me like that?


Unknown said...

Thanks for sharing this. I like it. I liked the horse sequence. Funny.

Super Happy Girl said...

That is great. What is it about girls and horses? I also found the horse sequence funny
Thanks putting this up, I guess it's every girls life :)

rena said...

I loved it. Can relate to all of it, except the brother be a horse part...never had a brother, but definitely wanted a, and to be a, horse. Thanks for sharing it.

the lizness said...

what is this, my diary? :)

Nettie said...

That is great. What was it advertising for? I related to everything but the not fitting into my bra thing. That should have been down with the missing becoming a mom thing.

Millie said...

You know, I'd really like to know where advertisers think these other women exist - the women who have to read full-page magazine ads before they'll want diamonds. I don't know one woman who doesn't like or want or "need" them.

When I get my ring, it'll be the old-fashioned "mother's ring" with my kids' birthstones, which will be completely gorgeous (none of my kids were born in October or November, thankfully) - a sapphire, diamond, emerald, December's and August's. I wanted my August to be born in July so I could have a ruby, but my doctor thought this was silly and anyway, he was going on vacation.

Anonymous said...

Right-handed diamond?!?! You must resist the subtle manipulation of the monopolistic patriarchal bourgeois diamond cartels. Women of the World Rise Up! Just say no to right-handed diamonds! You have nothing to lose but your rings! At least I think that is what Lenin (the non-singing one) would say if he were alive to see DeBeer's latest campaigns.

Dianne said...

That is just great and so true of girls. My guess this was in some teen magazine advertising for some hip deodorant!

Code Yellow Mom said...

Husband, I knew you woudl have something to say, but you should be nice because you are far away and I can post a picture of the frost you gave me (several times)for my left hand...If I remember right, the engagement diamond was a DeBeers campaign, and look how it has become necessary. Only a few years and you won't be able to resist the fabulous: "Your left hand rocks the cradle, your right hand rules the world." Face it. And don't bellyache. You love me more than you despise deBeers.

And Naddin J, I have a July baby. He was due in June, so I wasn't too happy about the July thing. But now that you mentions rubies...:) Husband, take note.

Katherine@Raising Five said...

I read this the other day and had to save it on Bloglines to read it more carefully when I had time (ha ha). Each line brings a smile (or raging embarrassment so many years later!).

Becoming a mother would require a whole 'nother poem, I'm afraid ("You wanted a baby/You didn't want a baby/You couldn't believe that you wanted a baby").

Hey, it has potential!