I was much cooler when I was 10.
I read tarot cards, cast the I Ching, and was into astrology and numerology. I’d memorized the numerology table and could figure out numbers in my head.
I was way into both yoga (did you know I invented the Lotus Position?) and witchcraft, and was making wax dolls and casting spells on people.
I had purple bell bottomed hip huggers and platform shoes.
I read so many books we couldn’t keep count.
I wrote poetry and could make a perfect pie crust.
I had a purple shag bedspread and I could crochet.
I didn’t like my parents much, so I found a better set and spent at least five nights a week away from home, enjoying a much better deal. My new parents drove Porsches, shot pheasants, and had Christmas.
I put on Mom’s high heels and descended their staircase, belting out “Hey Big Spender” along with the record (primitive karaoke).
I didn’t much care for my name either, so I changed it to Cynthia Joann Lewis, and even wrote that name on my papers at school. (How the teachers allowed this I’ll never know, but I’m glad they just went along with it.)
Yeah, I didn’t have my own house or my own car or my own pets (and I wasn’t a blonde), but all in all I still think I was much cooler. I wouldn’t trade back, because being an adult is awesome, but….