I remember a time far, far away in which I stayed up past midnight willingly and enjoyed it.
It was a magical time filled with idle chit chat with my college roommates, Ben & Jerry’s ice cream, and the latest episode of How I Met Your Mother on Netflix.
“The night is young!”
Oh, what a time to be alive. Newly eighteen and having only been away from home for a total of two weeks, I felt like such a badass going to bed way past the bedtime my parents had still been regularly enforcing upon me while I was still living at home.
Maybe it’s because I’m Mexican and maybe because I’m the first born and a woman, but my parents were always crazy strict with me up until I had my daughter. When I say crazy strict I absolutely mean it. If you don’t believe me let me follow up with some examples…
- I was not allowed to paint my fingernails, toenails, face, or other visible (or non-visible) parts of my body. I remember one time when I was in 5th grade I had colored in my fingernails with my pencil at school and forgotten to wash my handiwork before I got home -much to my mother’s amusement and my father’s annoyance. Let’s not even get started on the times my middle school friends would draw doodles on my arms and hands with colorful sharpies and my dad would catch me vehemently trying to wash them off when I got home… “Your body is not a sketch pad! Do you need more journals? Stop writing on your arms dammit!”
- I was not allowed to have sleepovers or attend sleepovers. Ever. Period. End of discussion.
- In the event that I were to get invited to a party or any kind of outing at all, I was to give my parents at least a weeks notice before said event so they could “go over the pros and cons” and have enough time to think about it. Last minute ice cream invitation for Michelle? “Oh, don’t even bother inviting me, I already know I can’t go.”Needless to say, my friends were very familiar with this particular rule.
- Absolutely, positively NO DATING until you are 18 (and even then it was an issue).
- NO social media accounts. Like, at all.
I could go on and on, but you get the idea. I was sheltered, over-protected, locked away in a tower! Okay, so maybe that’s stretching it, but most days I definitely felt like a prisoner in my own home. Continue reading