I used to worry about a lot of weird things. Actually, I still worry about a lot of weird things, because I have OCD. But worrying that your oven is going to explode while you’re not home is different than some of the things I worried about as a teenager. Back then, I was obsessed with being likable.
Although I still wonder why some of my friends are still around, I’ve come to terms with the fact that not everyone is going to like me. I don’t even want everyone to like me, because that means I would have to keep up my likable facade instead of asking if they’ve ever imagined a squirrel with a human butt. (Don’t ask questions, just do it.) That’s why I’m letting go of all my worries— or some of them, anyway. I’m saying goodbye to worrying about:
1. The sound tampon wrappers make in the bathroom.
A large percentage of the population has periods. Even if they don’t, they’re probably pretty familiar with what tampons and pads are. I mean, the world is full of advertisements of people laughing and wearing white while surrounded by floating period products. That is to say, when someone hears a crinkle in the bathroom, they’re probably not judging you or wondering why you have a family size bag of potato chips in the stall with you. That’s right— they know what’s going on and they don’t care. I used to pay extra for tampons with “noiseless” and “discreet” wrappers, and I could have been buying loud tampons and using that money for pizza. Seriously, what was I thinking?
2. That fuzz you get after missing a day of shaving.
I used to shave every day. My skin didn’t particularly like this, and I had a lot of ingrown hairs. There’s an old adage like “Beauty is pain” somewhere, and my teenage self took that to heart. But let’s be honest here. Can anyone even see that second day fuzz? If so, why are judgmental strangers so close to your legs? Stab them with the tiny, sharp barbs protruding from your legs like sandpaper with weird tan lines.
3. Ordering the wrong thing on a date.
I only date one person now, and I’m married to him, so he’s sort of stuck with me. Even if I weren’t married, I wouldn’t worry about this anyone. Seriously— I once suffered through a triple meat pizza because I didn’t want to tell my date that he had terrible, terrible taste. In everything. Now, I would’ve made him split it down the middle with me. Okay, who am I kidding? I would’ve ordered my own pizza, and eaten the whole thing. If you don’t deserve me on my cheat days, you don’t deserve me at my “salad for dinner” days.
There are plenty of other anxieties I’ve passed, but I’ll save those for another day. Until then, let’s talk: what’s one of your social worries you outgrew?