I've Always Been A Good Girl

When I get to the end of my life I expect to go out as a very old woman with a smile on her face and a slight chuckle that no one but a few friends will understand. You see, I have always been the good girl. The one who did what everyone expected. But there were those times that I just couldn’t or really didn’t want to, and those are the reason for the chuckle.

I am the youngest of three daughters born to parents that wanted only the best for and from their children. We were asked to do our best in school which I did, being placed in advanced classes and earning honors. We were expected to graduate not only from high school but college as well. I did that as well.

I did everything my parents expected from the time I was born. I was the dutiful daughter. I saw my sisters dating, having lots of friends and going out. They threw parties when our parents were out of town. I locked myself in my room and read. I wanted to take ballet. My parents thought gymnastics would be better suited for me, so of course, I took gymnastics.

But little cracks came through my nice polite studious quiet, Girl Scout joining life. I got involved with theater in high school. I made friends so my parents liked that part. But these people said what they thought and were so expressive. I grew but not totally. I was envious of what they did while remaining the shy quiet one.

Prom Night was a blast. I went with a group of friends. We had fun at the dance then went out afterwards. I know they had fun that night because they told me what I missed after I headed home at 10:30pm. I had a curfew and never broke it.

I got a boyfriend in college. He was wonderful and not at all who my parents would have chosen for me. I broke up with him when my parents told me to. He never understood. I couldn’t explain it. It broke both our hearts.

I acted out a little in college but nothing like some other kids did. I got my degree then took my graduation trip. My parents gave me a week in Hawaii. This was the first time I traveled alone. My very first solo vacation. I had a very nice time. I saw a lot of beautiful sites, including the Samoan man I met the very last day. He will be one of those smiles at the end of my life. Then I went home and back to being the good daughter.

I helped when my dad had heart surgery. I did whatever was asked of me. He recovered and I got to begin my career in film. This meant I moved to Los Angeles. I would be living alone, in a city where I knew no one, in a completely different state. I was on my on for the first time. I had to call every Sunday to update them but it was up to me as to what to tell and my life was mine during the week.

For three years I did things I wanted. I got jobs they approved of. I never got arrested. I stayed safe (although my definition and theirs may have been different). I hung out in places my parents would not have approved of. I drove through neighborhoods my mom would have locked the doors and asked my dad to drive faster through. I made friends from all walks of life. These were some of the best years of my life. Then I moved home.

I got a job they chose for me and made it my own. I moved into an apartment in a neighborhood they liked. I dated rarely but men they would approve of. I even married a man they liked.

I have no regrets about anything I did and I realize all the choices I made were truly my own. I sometimes wonder what I missed out on. But I’m not that very old woman yet. There is still time to add more reasons to smile. I may find a few more experiences that add enough chuckles for a full on laugh that will leave everyone wondering – until they find my diaries.