As you probably know by now, I am living in the town where I attended middle and high school. This brings back a lot of memories, some happy, some not so happy.
I decided that today's post would be a light one, so we're going to focus on some of the goofier memories. This isn't hard because last night I had a big kick-back to middle school. I was a Hansonite, a Fanson. Whatever you want to call it, I was a die-hard Hanson fan. Hanson fans are much cooler now days. They aren't the same thing that they were when I was in middle school. I know this because there is a wonderful teenage girl in our church who is a fan. I don't think anyone would debate her coolness.
When I was a nutty, out-of-my-mind, couldn't get enough Hanson fan, we weren't cool. We giggled constantly, cried when we saw them up close, and clung to every word that came out of their pubescent faces. I had posters... lots and lots of posters, that cluttered my walls. I remember one day when Dad came into my room to get me up for school. He turned to walk out, and seeing my Hanson-plastered wall (Mom had a rule that you shouldn't be able to see any posters from the door), said under his breath "My daughter is a groupie." He sounded so sad, as if I had been abducted by aliens.
I had a Hanson birthday cake. I'm embarassed to say that it was for my fourteenth birthday party. I totally should have grown out of that stage of fandom by that point, but I hadn't. By the time I got to college, my fandom waned. I still kept up with them. Oh, how disappointed I was to discover that Taylor, the middle one, had gotten a girl pregnant and was engaged to be married.
It was only a few months later that Edwin and I began dating. We were engaged by the time I was 19. I saw a concert the September before we got married in December. To be totally honest, if I had the opportunity to see them tomorrow, I would totally do it. They had a concert in Louisville, but I couldn't find anyone who wanted to go with me, and Edwin somehow thought that it would be a waste of money. Plus, it was in a club. Not really somewhere that I want to visit.
As memories of who I was collide with plans for who I want to be, I find myself confused. But some part of me still hums "Mmmbop". If you'll excuse me, I have a kid who needs her diaper changed.
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