Some of it lighthearted, some of it serious, some of it unbelievable (even to me), but here is a list of things that, in my older and wiser age, I vow to never, ever, EVER do again!
- Wrestle in a giant vat of applesauce.
Yes, you read that correctly. In September of 2005 (God, has it really been nearly 10 years now? How time flies!) on what seemed like a typical Thursday night, I found an ad in the local Washington City Paper for an event taking place that very evening in a local vegan biker bar (yes, you also read that correctly) in the Adams Morgan neighborhood of DC. The event? All women bikini applesauce wrestling (applesauce instead of Jello, of course, because applesauce is vegan!).
SIGN. ME. UP!
I grabbed my favorite leopard print Bettie-Page style bikini, hailed a taxi, and was there within the hour, ready to *RUMBLE!* At the sign up, I chose my wrestling alias without a bit of hesitation (I was… Bodacious Bridget!). The bar was offering free drinks and shots for the participants, so I obviously took advantage of the situation to order my usual… a Shirley Temple (I have never liked alcohol, and even today, I don’t drink at all).
In the end, I didn’t win the event or the $500 grand prize (a girl who appropriately went by the name of Rage did).
Did it bother me that I didn’t win? No.
Did it bother me that one of my opponents tore off my favorite bikini top and broke one of the strings beyond repair? No.
Did it bother me that there were some scandalous, NSFW photos of the event with taken that wound up on the internet (see slightly above)? No.
Did it bother me that I couldn’t sleep a wink that night because I was in so sore and in so much physical pain because I had gotten the crap kicked out of me? Err… Yes (Violet needs her beauty sleep!).
At that time I vowed, “Never again. I will never again wrestle topless in applesauce” (and I am proud to say that I have stayed true to my word!).
- (Romantically) Settle for Less
With very, very, VERY few exceptions, I admit that I do not have the best track record for choosing guys. In retrospect, it’s downright horrendous and painful to look back on. Throughout the vast majority of my dating experiences, I had chosen guys who were, frankly speaking, jerks (and that’s putting it very nicely). Guys who didn’t respect me, who mistreated me, who lied to me, who cheated on me, and everything in between. I was so scared of not being worthy, not being loved, of being alone that I made excuses for them, forgave them, looked the other way, and made more excuses for them. I think the final breaking point was when I was actually about to seriously walk down the aisle with one of them when my mom came down HARD on me and gave me a much-needed verbal bitch-slapping. In the end, she stopped me from making one of the biggest mistakes of my life.
Now, I am PROUD to be Fede’s wife, life partner, and mother of his child. Fede is unlike any other person I’ve ever met, he is a gentleman in every regard, and treats me like I treat him – with love, compassion, patience, respect, and affection. It was a long, hard road to get to the right person, but it gave me an even greater, more profound appreciation of the kind of person that he is, and moreover, what I truly do deserve.
- Deliberately and knowingly hurt myself
Including but not limited to the years that I lost hating myself with a passion, cutting myself, and putting myself in multiple forms of danger. And then there was the bulimia. I’m not going to sugar coat it with some sort of epithet like “making myself sick.” No, I forcibly made myself puke until I sometimes saw blood. For far too long. It wrong, and while I lament having abused myself so badly for so long, I am finally learning what the concept of self love is all about.
Better late than never.
- Eat Oysters
They say that eating oysters is supposed to be an aphrodisiac. Pffft. For me, the very thought of it still wretches my stomach.
While vacationing in the small city of Vila Velha in Brazil in 1999 with a Brazilian family, I bought some raw oysters from a pushy vendor at the beach. I had never tried oysters before, and thought, “What the heck?” as I slurped about four of them down with a twist of lemon.
Unbeknownst to me, these oysters were most likely grown in the sewer. Fast forward a few hours and I was puking my guts out in a bag in a public hospital, and then later hooked up to an IV. My memories from that night aren’t too great, except for the fact that I remember that I thoroughly peed my pants and my host father was freaking out because he thought that I was pregnant.
I spent my last week in Brazil bedridden and swore off oysters for the rest of my life.
- Wear skimpy, revealing clothes.
It’s not just that being overweight now really hinders it, but now that I am a mother, a wife, and my wild-child days are behind me, I can appreciate what it means to be modest and still be beautiful.
When I was younger, my fashion icon was Madonna. Enough said. If it was tight, short, strappy, shiny, sexy (read: skanky), and I could fit into it, even just barely, I probably wore it. Frankly, I’m surprised that I didn’t get suspended from school, or worse.
Did it get me attention? Yes. But was it the right kind of attention? Looking back, I can unequivocally say no freaking way. The new me kind of wants to smack my old self upside the head and interrogate, “No, seriously… the HELL were you thinking?!?” Dressing like I was on the ho stroll got me the wrong attention from the wrong people. I admit, I had a rather nice body about 10+ years ago, but I was still the poster child for low self-esteem, and I made the wrong impression on a lot of people. Totally not worth it.
Now that I am older, wiser (and nearly 100 lbs heavier), my fashion idols have drastically changed. I find the likes of Salma Hayek and Angelina Jolie to be much more appropriate role models as MILFs (though I’ve still got to work on losing my chunk).