PHOTO BY JENNY JIMENEZ
There is an age that every woman keeps in their mind; the age where all the jeans fit, we are able to see ourselves as beautiful, and our social lives were buzzing faster than a newly charged vibrator. We were satisfied inside and out.
Mine was seventeen. I was dating the love of my life, I had just bought my sister's share of the '73 baby blue Volkswagen bug so it was all mine. It was also the year I was at the top of my ball game having received the First Team PIL (Portland Interscholastic League) Award for a successful softball season throwing people out at home from center field. I was also a scholar-athlete. I was the shit.
Most look to their former self for the wrong reasons; she was thinner than I am now, she was younger, she had no wrinkles: "I want that back" some would say. I've been guilty of exhibiting these behaviors as well. I'm no better.
A few years back I started to admire my seventeen-year-old self and starting asking...