I was mulling over topics for my next blog post when my muse paid a short visit.
“How about a post on re-do’s. You know, things you would go back and re-do if you could.”
“It’s called a do-over. Not a re-do,” I informed her.
“Whatever,” she said. Then she was gone. I’ve got to learn not to get her angry.
It was an intriguing thought. What would I do-over if I could? Well for starters, I wouldn’t buy those cute $90 kitten heel mules that felt fine in the store, but turned my feet into burning hunks of coal every time I wore them after that.
And I would definitely pass on the “home hair-coloring advice” I read in a magazine. (Mix grape juice with peroxide and wash your hair with it for subtle highlights. The sad thing is I never noticed what a hideous orange it was until years later, looking at pictures).
But what about the important stuff? I’d thought about it before and sometimes a do-over of life sounded really good. Some people say they wouldn’t do anything differently because then they wouldn’t be who they are. I always thought that was a load of crap. When I was ten years old, there was already stuff I wanted to do over.
I thought about my life. Would I choose a different path in college? Would I move to upstate New York with my boyfriend (now husband) at nineteen? Would I still marry him? Would I have five kids? Would I start my writing career sooner?
My mind wanders to the night before my wedding. If I was going to change anything, it would probably be that night. And the thought is tempting. My fiancé and I lived in New York but were getting married in Michigan on a Saturday. My fiancé and one of my bridesmaids got into town on Thursday evening right before the wedding rehearsal. That left only Friday night for a little bachelorette fun.
My friends got tickets to Sexy Rexy Friday evening. I drove to meet them at the bar, in the car we’d rented to use for the wedding. Renting limos for weddings wasn’t that common back then (boy, that’s a saying that makes you feel old). Two of the couples standing up in the wedding were driving it from the church to the reception the next day.
The tickets included two free drinks of your choice. I got two Long Island iced teas because those were the most expensive drinks and I’d never had them before. They went down very easily, let me tell you, but they were very potent. I don’t remember my friends taking me out to the car later. I don’t remember being passed out for hours in the backseat. And I don’t remember throwing up. I remember the ride home, horizontal in the back seat, as my maid-of-honor and my cousin drove and friends followed in another car to give them a ride back.
I remember getting up on the morning of my wedding, after four hours of sleep, and scrubbing the backseat of the rental car so it could be used by our lovely attendants (The ones who actually didn’t go to the bar the night before. How unfair is that?)
Despite everything, our wedding was wonderful and I looked and felt radiant. And as I really ponder my life and things I regret, I realize I would not choose to do-over that evening or anything else, because– as some people say– I wouldn’t be the person I am right now, or have the family I’ve been blessed with.
If you could have a do-over, would you?