A Few Things Blue Ivy Taught Me
For those who thought for one minute that this post had any relevance to the “Queen”, I know you shame! I’m not convinced I care enough to make a whole post solely about pop culture. Anyway, this is actually a brazen boast on my accomplishments. And you should audaciously applaud yourself on yours too.
Blue Ivy (a.k.a. my Ivy Girl) is my gorgeous, tall, 9 month old, Apex Blue Pearl luxury SUV crossover. She is the sweetest. She is decked out with a full screen for apple play and navigation on the dash, four different driving mode options, push start engine, plenty of room for my football team of kids that don’t exist yet, sitting pretty, 20 inches off the ground on blacked out rims. She is a whole dream that I knew I wanted to give my love to from the actual moment I laid eyes on her. I didn’t even want or need a new car [payment], but accompanied my sister in her quest for an upgrade. We got to the dealership and sitting on the throne of displays was my Ivy Girl, smiling at me. I fell in love and told the salesmen that if they cut us a deal for buying two cars at the same time, I would totally get this unwarranted vehicle, regardless of how impulsive or irrational it was. Here I am, one giant investment later, enjoying my commute in my new shiny money pit.
Anyone who knows me knows I work. Hard. And frequently. Somewhere along the boring lines of my daily routine, I must have figured there wasn’t much more to life. That was mistake number one. I have been single for as far back as I can remember, so I did not know what it was like to make new memories and experiences with someone I care about. I was doing unexciting things, never traveling outside my county bubble, buying unexciting items, not spoiling myself. I will admit, I looked at others’ situations and always felt like I wasn’t living my best life.
I am not your typical woman. I don’t know what to do with make up primer, or the difference between a brush you use for highlighting or contouring. Hell, I don’t even know what those pieces of make up do. I have never been one to go shopping, or get my hair or nails done. I always explain to people that I tread a fine line between being cheap and frugal (but mostly just cheap). I was always in a saving mindset. Saving for what? So I can be rich when I die? I don’t know! But why? Why didn’t I feel like I deserve to do things for myself, ever?
It took Blue Ivy for me to come to this realization: I, too, can have nice things. This is just the best example that I could come up with to describe my revelation, so bear with me. I don’t know about you but I deserve a big life! Why are we living mediocre lives if we don’t have to? In our personal endeavors, jobs, relationships, etc.
I am in a relationship with an amazing man, and if it doesn’t work out between us, he has raised my standards for everyone that might come after him. I deserve this. He shows me what I deserve; nice things in the form of a rewarding, reciprocal relationship.
When it is all said and done, life is more than just going to work and coming home to soft pants. Though that is my ideal weekday, I forgot how nice it was to treat or be treated to something that makes me happier than taking my bra off at the end of a long day (though everything compared to that is debatable).