I know we’re all supposed to live by the mantra that there should be no regerts in life. I get the philosophy, I do; even the worst decisions should teach us a lesson that helps us make the next ones a little better.
All those heartbreaks, kissing frogs, dancing in the street until 8am, flipping the bird at your pervert boss: them’s life experiences, yo. And you’d be nothing without them, trust me.
Yet. I think it’s okay to look back and think “Ooooooooooooo-eeeeeeee WTAF was I thinking there?” The minor regrets.
Some of mine:
- 87% of my childhood/teenage haircuts
- Giving my brother a black eye with my Barbie horse in 1985 (or thereabouts) and denying all knowledge of it being me because he was asleep at the time, and why would I? *innocent eyes*
- Being so into Vanilla Ice
- Ra ra skirts
- Not seeing more of Australia (met a boy din’t I?)
- At least 50% of the time I’ve spent with my ‘sink’ friends (the ones that drain you)
- Hitchhiking (nothing bad happened but I still reel at how stupid we were)
- Not buying that amazing white leopard print coat (1998)
- Whatever it was that I did to get myself grounded and unable to attend ‘that school disco’, it could have been a game changer (but then again, probably not)
- Taking out my amazing ear piercings for work
- Star Wars II: Attack of the Clones
- Not telling people who’ve told me I’d be beautiful if only I *insert their version of a beauty ideal here* to go and fuck themselves. Sideways
So no big ones there.
The biggest regret I have but don’t count, because so much good came out of it, was my six years of Hell. I’m sure most of you know how that story goes by now.
I can now, thankfully say that that isn’t my longest standing relationship anymore. And even though looking back makes me cringe, I wouldn’t have what I have now without it. That’s just a fact.