Running in heels...

Sometimes I find myself sounding like a broken record.

Although maybe only a few of the people around me catch it, I do and it annoys me to no end. I try not to dwell on things, but there are certain things that ultimately are the things that really mean something to me. I guess you could say they define me. And at times, especially those when I am trying to focus my attention elsewhere, they beat like the tell tale heart.

A long time ago when my age was still single digits and I was still Chris, I had a best friend who was also named Khris.

She was the "C" with a "K" and I was the "K" with a "C".

The "C" with a "K" is my oldest friend. We were friends through childhood, through high school, then college and after some time doing our own thing, we were friends in life. K and I are as different as any two girls could ever be. We have different demeanors, different ideas and a different outlook in life.

Surprisingly enough, for a long time, she was the independent one. The one who was supposed to grow up and crack every glass ceiling with her Louboutin heel. I, on the other hand, was meant to change the world with a child on my hip. It's what I wanted. It's what she wanted.

But the world spins and people change as do their priorities.

Some years back, K sent me an invitation to her wedding. I meant to go. I wanted to. But I couldn't. I didn't go not because I couldn't- couldn't. But because something inside me stopped me. It was a strange time for me because while she was playing house somewhere in NJ, I was the one wearing the Louboutins running around the world.

This past Monday K had a baby. A gorgeous boy she named Ethan.

Though I know that there isn't a scorecard being kept anywhere, all I keep thinking is K-1 / C-0. While I was running around collecting shoes and stamps in my passport, she collected the materials to build the life I hoped to always have. So many things have happened over the years that I forgot the direction I wanted to go and the intentions behind many of the decisions I made.

And watching her, I want to want the things I always felt I was meant to have.

But I don't know if I am that person anymore.

Though I could be so much more than who that was.

Yet as I think of the life I live and the things that have meant something to me , I can't help but think that this vision of the girl changing the world with a child on her hip is the one that most resembles me. And I know I can do it.

Even wearing Louboutins.

Accidents.

Everywhere I go there is always something to remind me of another place and time...

Last night I dreamt that I had a one night stand with someone I love/hate and got pregnant with triplets: Martina, Cecilia and Andreas.

Oh yes and I had them...

I don't remember the rest of the dream, but I remember the panic and the three names which was in itself enough to panic me into a rude awakening. I mean, seriously, three kids out of one accident is like karma on crack. Not even my baby craving uterus would be happy at such news!

But then all morning I've been in anguish over what I would do if those were the cards I was dealt...

I have faced the fact that I'm not getting any younger and coincidentally, I am probably not any closer to having a baby than I have been. However, I do want a baby badly -but just one. What would I do if I were to accidentally end up with a litter?

My step mother was 40+ years old when she got knocked up with my youngest sister.

Two of my friends had been dating for a month when she got pregnant with twins.

My mom's friends had her first child with the help of every fertility drug known to man, and then somehow, 4 months later, got naturally pregnant with triplets.

Martina. Cecilia. Andreas.

I will take what I can get.

27 going on 20

So today I went to a new hairdresser my friend Joan recommended.

I don't think I've laughed so hard EVER as I did when this woman was like "how is it that someone as young as you has gray hair?

I was like "how old do you think I am?"

"You can't be any older than 20!"

hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha

So I tell her I am 4 months shy of 28 and she called me a liar. I showed her my driver's license and she said it was my fake ID.

In a way I loved how that made me feel. I love how it makes me feel to get ID'ed for cigarrettes, and I love how it makes me feel to have 20 year old guys hit on me. But I feel like I loose some of my credibility everytime someone thinks I am still going through puberty.

A lot of people pay tons of money so they can credibly lie about their age. I, on the other hand, just want to age and do so gracefully. Honestly. I don't die my hair despite the fact that I am quickly going gray. I barely wear makeup despite the fact that all those laughs I've had have left their mark so that I don't forget that I did laugh. And I try to act my age the best of my ability despite the fact that I am not your average 27 year old.

My mom says that when she was my age she had three kids and a divorce under her belt. She prays for the grand-children I would love to give her. But times have changed and here I am trying to selfishly survive, and I selfishly because even though having a child is so high up there on my list of priorities that it might as well be life, all the money I should be putting in my child's college fund, lately I find it's better spent on Furla wallets, Gucci sunglasses and weekend trips that will do nothing for me except make my already enlarged ass bigger.

I always thought that by 28 I would have it all figured out. I thought I'd have my own family and I would be living the happily ever after we are raised to believe actually exists. But I have nothing other than more work than necessary to show for my existence. I make family meals for friends, I knit for other people's babies and I coo strangers children...

All the while I pray that little Fiona will come...even if she is an accident...because that would be damn good motivation to trade Gucci sunglasses for those cute baby jumpers I often spend longer than necessary looking at when I go to Saks.