HEY YA’LL! I LIVE WITH MY PARENTS! They are responsible adults.
I LOVE LIVING WITH MY PARENTS! They are super cool and live in a MANSION! I’m not bragging here. I had nothing to do with the MANSION. I watched them build it with their bare hands. Seriously. My MOM can throw block like nobody you’ve ever met! There is nothing like a woman with a KICKIN’ figure, a shovel in her hand and mortar on her face.
My mom is funny and makes dinner almost every night! I KNOW, RIGHT?! I don’t gotta cook hardly EVER! Last night I came home to grilled carne asada, tortillas and fresh salsa. (She actually made ME make the salsa but everything else was there…) My mom also likes to boss me around and tell me how to raise my kids. She’s like a little Mexican drill sarge. I don’t mind.
And my dad is mellow and plays guitar and sings with me and asks, “How ya doin‘, Baby?” every time I see him. When I hear him singing I feel completely peaceful and safe. When he sings The Gambler or The Coward of the County all is right with the world… even if all is wrong with the world. (I totally dig Kenny Rogers. First concert I ever went to. Daddy took me when I was 8.) Makes me feel all warm and fuzzy. (I got in big trouble with him last week when my dog crapped in the house… I felt like I was 12 again. I didn’t mind.)
They own a custom home building company called GOLDEN STAR PROPERTIES. (They named the company after ME! My middle name is Estrella, which means star. ) The business is successful. The crappy economy has not affected them.
BACK TO MEEEEEE.
I AM A LITTLE PIG.
You know the story, right? Three little pigs?
The wolf says, “Little Pig! Little pig! Let me come in!”
To which I reply in a painfully high-pitched voice, “Not by the hair of my chin-y chin chin!”
So The Big Bad Wolf says, “Then I’ll huff and I’ll puff and I’ll BLOOOOWWWWW YOUR HOUSE IN!!!”
I’m the Piggy that built my house of straw and used the balance to buy 150 pairs of designer jeans. (Actually, my husband built me an AMAZINGLY well-built custom home… but you hear what I‘m sayin‘… Yes?)
That nasty wolf blew my house IN! But it’s cool because I made it out alive with the jeans (and shoes and bags and jewelry…). And to be honest, I’m sooo over that house. I mourned it’s loss before I left so I’m good now.
Back in the day (6 months ago) I had NO IDEA what would befall me. I went to Disneyland and then shortly after I chilled on a cruise ship drinking ridiculously over-priced diet Pepsi (they didn‘t carry Coke, which is sinful, but whatever). I danced with geriatrics and I bought STUFF at EVERY PORT. I couldn’t even TELL you what I bought. Just STUFF. I shrugged my shoulders at the airport when I was charged an extra $100 because my suitcase was so heavy. It was just money. Money was no object.
But guess what?!!! Money IS an object! It’s green and rectangular and paper-y and has pictures of serious men and people are always saying, “don’t put money in your mouth because somebody probably PEED on it.” And it sucks when you don’t have any.
So the WOLF blew my house in. I ran to the wise Piggy’s house. I learned a valuable lesson.
PIGS CONSUME. Pigs eat more than their share. They don’t THINK they just EAT. That’s what I did.
Here’s my epiphany: IF YOU DON’T SPEND ALL YOUR MONEY ON STUFF YOU WILL HAVE SOME MONEY LATER!!!!!!
What a concept!!!
I can’t BELIEVE how many people are privately telling me they can relate to my story. They say, “I can relate to your story…”.
So I’ve been trying to figure out how to change for the better. I didn’t USED to be such a PRINCESS. I became a frivolous boot whore approximately 5 years ago. What was life like BEFORE I had money coming out of my ears?
Well I’ll tell ya.
I had my very first candy bar when I was 10 years old. WHY? Because my very WISE PIGGY parents would not spring 50 cents for a Hershey’s Bar. My Aunt Phyllis bought my first one because she felt badly. I NEVER had a HAPPY MEAL! We NEVER ordered pizza. I went to ONE movie as a child. E.T. My clothes came from Salvation Army or Good Will. My mom was the cleaning ladies. My dad would rather starve than spend an extra buck for lunch.
I thought we were POOR! Nope. MY PARENTS WERE HOLDING OUT ON ME!!!! Can you BELIEVE IT?! They HAD MONEY!!! BUT THEY WOULDN’T SPEND IT!!!! WHAT THE….???????
While all the little Mexican girls I grew up with had armfuls of gold bracelets and even more gold chains around their necks with their names engraved, my arms were bare. When all the brown girls sported the GUESS brand triangle on their healthy ghetto booties I sported … whatever would cover my assets…
It’s gonna be a while before I’m completely cured of my shopping bug. It may NEVER go away! I LOVE fashion. Hot clothes and high shoes give me a THRILL! I’m not gonna lie. It will be a slow and painful recovery.
Some moms tell their daughters that it’s what’s INSIDE that counts. That it doesn’t matter what you look like on the outside. That you don’t need money to be happy.
Yeah. Yeah. That’s all well and good for them. I grew up with different advice.
My mom has always told me, “Money is IMPORTANT, so SAVE it! And as long as you wear a good bra and have a nice figure it doesn’t matter what you wear on the outside…”. :)
Makes perfect sense. She is a wise Piggy indeed.
P.S. This is random: I’m watching my kids play at the park as I write. A man walked by wearing no shirt. My son just YELLED, “HEY! NICE SHIRT!”
HAHAHAHAHA!!!!!! Where in the WORLD did he get that rowdy sense of humor? ;)
