I have three Tommy Hilfiger items. One is a pair of jeans that is a collab with Gigi Hadid. I splurged on these back when I was working my old job when I wasn’t even sure I could afford them. I got them because her commercial made it look like a lot of fun could be had while wearing them. I knew that’s how all commercials make their products look, but I wanted these jeans anyway simply because they remind me of the kind the girls wore on “The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants.” I haven’t had any magical sister-bonding experiences since wearing them, but I’ve gotten several compliments, so I guess that’s good. While getting them I promised myself I wouldn’t splurge on jeans this expensive anytime soon again. It’s been four years now and I’ve kept my word to myself.
Another is a baseball shirt that I got in high school because I always remembered that the prettiest most popular girl in my middle school would wear Tommy Hilfiger and I always wanted to own at least one Tommy Hilfiger item because of her. I didn’t wear it for long before I ended up getting two holes on one of the arms of the shirt during 10th grade chem lab when my lab partner accidentally spilled HCl on it and the acid ate through that part of the shirt. I don’t like to admit it, but I think I still hold onto the shirt as a clothing scar or something. It’s like I want people to see me wearing it at work or whatever and ask me about those holes so they can find out I still fit into clothes I wore at 15 years old and I survived HCl eating away my shirt.
The third is a black hoodie that I got at a Tommy Hilfiger outlet store. It keeps me warm in the winter, but whenever someone looks at it they think I paid full price for it. Nope. I just wanted something that would keep me warm in the winter. El fin.
Some body parts are long, like an elephant’s nose or a flamingo’s ankle. Some foods are as big as football players, like cheese wheels made in Wisconsin. Some letters don’t stand for anything like the “D” in D-Day. This Page Is Intentionally Left Blank is a contradiction, but it’s there to keep the pages in order and not mess up margins and such. I love being able to cook my grandmother’s “get well” noodles for anyone who is not feeling well or for whenever anyone has a craving for it. And the beat goes on.
Vaccine hunters are my heroes. It is worth it to go to San Diego just to see how ReBru Spirits functions. No one from Honduras should have to feel unsafe on their way to the United States. You know what? No one should have to ever feel unsafe anywhere or anytime.
BIBIBOP Asian Grill is coming to town and I feel like a child on Christmas morning. McKeever’s Market & Eatery is a place to forage and I want to try it out sometime. I’ve heard some good things about First Watch and I’m staring at all the ways avocado can be used in breakfast and lunch.
No cavities today and I’m so relieved. Toothaches are the actual worst, like Gen according to Lara Jean’s best friend. I think I’ll call them Genaches from now on. Or maybe Russian airstrikes. I can’t decide.
Thank you. You don’t know me, but thank you for reminding me that sometimes watching TV is bailing on myself. Thank you for sharing your love story; I have learned how to identify toxic people in my life and successfully walk away from them. I have never felt so empowered in all my life. Thank you for that strength I didn’t even know I had in me. Thank you for sharing your pregnant story; I have learned that all you need to do during that time is make sure you take care of the baby and then yourself. If I ever get pregnant, I will keep that in mind. Thank you for teaching me that my goals don’t have expiration dates. I love that even though it took you years to buy your very first Louis Vuitton bag, you were able to imagine your dream in such intricate detail so early on that it became a reality one day. I’m sorry you went through so much trauma losing your brother to suicide, but thank you for sharing the story to remind me that trauma does not define my life. Thank you for talking to me like I’m one of your girl friends and believing in me even though you don’t know me. Thank you for not being afraid to talk about God, yet being considerate of those who are a different faith than you. I admire you for that. Thank you for not sugar-coating any of your stories and literally letting me see the good, the bad, and the ugly of what happened to you as a mom, as a marathon-runner, as a teen, as an entrepreneur, and as a writer. I know you wear even more hats than that, but truly, you are amazing just the way you are and I hope you stay that way. Thank you for sharing that part of eating every Oreo in sight and the other part of drinking all the wine. You are so honest, raw, and real. My favorite type of book to read is the novel and while your book was not a novel, I read it like it was the kind of novel I can’t put down. You don’t know me, but I love you as my sister in Christ. You don’t know me, but I think you do.