Eight

                                    

                                          
Eight 
                          
73 days until the wedding 
                          
     Some days you wake up, look at yourself in the mirror, and wonder what you're going to eat for breakfast. Although this could make, or break your day it most certainly won't make, or break your life because after you eat breakfast, you're mind immediately wanders to what you're going to do next. One choice after another until it's already a brand-new day. 
                          
     Then there are days. Those rare, random days, when you wake up, look at yourself in the mirror, and wonder how the hell you got here. 
                          
     I was twelve years old sitting on the same couch I sit on as a twenty-two-year-old, only watching an older version of the T.V. One of my favorite Disney channel shows would be playing on the screen, and I would be yearning for the seemingly cool teenage lives the characters had. I would be sprawled out in my sock monkey pajamas, sometimes even with my sock monkey lying next to me, and hear giggling behind the actor's voices on the screen. 
                          
     Only when the laughter finally came bursting through my living room did I finally peak my head up over the couch, and catch a quick glimpse of Aubrey and her two best friends scrambling up to her room with shopping bags on their arms. As I slumped back down onto the couch I only wished they invited me along. Then my gaze would land on my pajamas, and I'd return my attention back to the people on the television screen who seemed to have way more exciting lives than little old me.
                          
     Now I'm standing here with a vanilla bean Frappuccino in my hand as my sister and her two best friends continue to browse through yet another sales rack. Don't get me wrong. I enjoyed browsing through the first few stores we stopped at. However, finding nothing really catching my eyes, I gave up on the seemingly endless, and almost mindless, task as the number of stores we've been to has now reached the double digits. 
                          
     I'll admit, the reality of this situation is a little disappointing, but I guess so is growing up. The things you thought would be are muddled by the truth of what is, and as hard as you try to hold on to the seemingly perfect allusion, the more you realize reality isn't.
                          
     "Avery, this would look so cute on you," one of Aubrey's friends, Sasha, holds a peplum tank top up to me and I step forward to inspect it further. 
                          
     "That is really cute." I admit, and Sasha drops the hanger into my hands. I hold it up in front of me, considering it, before grabbing the tag. "Not for that price." I force my disappointment into a scoff, and Sasha glances back over at me. After I show her the specific number that outweighs the top's aesthetic she immediately takes it back from me and flings it haphazardly over the rack. 
                          
     "Stupid people leaving their non-sale items on the sales rack." Sasha mimics my scoff before blowing a dark corkscrewed piece of hair out of her face. The action seems futile as all the small curls continue to bounce around her face, but she doesn't let it phase her as she continues to search through the clothes. 
                          
     Standing here, my twelve-year-old self, although slightly disappointed with the reality of Aubrey's shopping endeavors, is still satisfied. I supposed that makes up for the defaults of growing up. Although we may never achieve our wildest dreams, we can at least try to satisfy our younger selves. They had high expectations for us and the least we can do is try to live up to them. 
                          
     "All right, I'm done here." Aubrey sighs and her other friend, Brenna, murmurs in agreement as she swallows her own sip of coffee. 
                          
     After we all give a round of "me toos," we finally begin to head out of one of the larger department stores in the mall. I continue to sip on my frappe as my eyes search around for nothing in particular before Brenna sticks her arm out in front of me, and I end up choking a little on an annoyingly unblended ice chunk. Brenna gestures to the endless amount of beauty product displays and counters before we all turn back around and head in the opposite direction. Our laughter at our indiscreet actions stems from the fact that we just avoided a whole bunch of obnoxious employees.