If you’re a girl, and you grew up going to a pretty normal public school like me, you’ve probably pondered this same question at some point or another in the not too distant past. Now, I know you’re probably thinking…who’s Ashley? And why would I be wondering about her life? So, to refresh your memory - Ashley is the one who wore a different Limited Too outfit every day in 5th grade. She also had a jumbo size pack of pastel Gel pens and if you we’re lucky enough she might sign her name on your hand – or better yet – let you have one. Ashley liked to remind you that you were a-w-k-w-a-r-d and made you hate you mom for thinking that 45 dollars for a Limited Too t-shirt “was ridiculous and financially irresponsible.” Ashley made you feel like being smart was in fact stupid and your life dream was to wear a padded bra. Oh good, you remember her now?
Before I continue, I would like to say that if you’re thinking – who is this loser chick writing this crap? You’re probably right – I was a middle school loser with frizzy hair, glasses AND braces - the trifecta. And maybe I’m holding on to a little too much resentment almost 15 years later…But let’s face it, we all have an Ashley. And if you actually are an Ashley, well you’re fifth grade self was awesome – hence, why I was most recently wondering about you’re oh so charmed life.
My Ashley – she’s pregnant. I opened facebook, saw the horribly public picture of her sonogram, and I swear to you my screen was raining confetti. Pure jubilation ensued. While I have since graduated from college, am working at my dream job, and feel like I have the entire world at my fingertips – my Ashley still lives with her parents, never went to college, and is now pregnant with some guy’s baby who has the same credentials as her– he peaked in 5th grade too.
I’m happy for them- I really am - having a baby is a momentous life occasion and one that I can only hope to experience when I am closer to 30, not 20. But it was a weird feeling to look back on the girl that I once so desperately wanted to become and think “THANK GOD I am not living her life.” Call me a bitch, tell me to get over it, or think down on me because I feel this enormous sense of self pride for feeling more accomplished than Ashley – but truthfully, there is nothing meaner and more hurtful that you could say to me that Ashley hasn’t already said. I never knew that my mother would be right, 45 dollars for a shitty t-shirt is pretty stupid and that yes, I would grow up to do bigger and better things. Maybe Ashley will tell her kid the same thing. But probably not.
What ever happened to Ashley?
