I want to talk to you today about something I like to call “Reserving the Right.”
See, I find it to be a clause which allows me to do/say/be anything I want by simply stating “I reserve the right…!” in a very grand, moderately offensive British accent.
It’s my equivalent of “With all do respect…” (you know, those asshats that say “with all due respect” followed by something completely un-respectful. yea. those asshats.)
So this year, I am working to reserve all the rights. I am really coming into my own, unapologetic-ally, and loving myself for my quirks.
What exactly am I reserving?
I reserve the right to read until 2 in the morning if the book is really good.
I reserve the right to take a long lunch with a rekindled friend.
I reserve the right to run my fingers through my husband’s perfectly coiffed hair.
I reserve the right to drink really good wine any day of the week, at any time, without feeling guilty.
I reserve the right to stop blaming my period when I cry at commercials.
I reserve the right to hot glue or spray paint anything I want.
I reserve the right to love recklessly, without abandon.
I reserve the right to eat a breakfast completely devoid of any nutritional value, because strawberries are in season.
I reserve the right to be me. Loud, obnoxious, loving, overwhelmingly Type -A me.
To celebrate, I give you a proper breakfast of Biscuits, Strawhburry Jam, and Cream.
A proper English breakfast.