I want my 4-inch stilettos and New York pavement
I remember being 13, watching movies about dope ass 20-something-year-old women having it mostly together, what with their fancy degrees and working at their swanky law firms/ad agencies/fashion magazines and/or finding love and marrying in a whirlwind of brilliant flowers and whatnot. I loved watching them and fantasizing about where I would be, which fancy city street I would be strutting down in my 4-inch stilettos. (Nod at the Devil Wears Prada) We’ve all heard it growing up —> go to school so you can good grades, get good grades so you can get into college, go to college so you can get a degree, get a degree so you can get a good job, get a job so you can… ???? (and of course , if you’re in my family, don’t get pregnant at any point along the way) You don’t actually realize then that there’s a whole bunch of time that needs to be filled between the “get a good job” point and the point when time’s up. I guess I figured that by the time I got to this point I
