Each month, Sloane’s funny frankness echoes the experiences of young people and their choices.
Remember when you were little and the school year was coming to a close?
You handed all your teachers crappy gifts from the sale section at Pier 1 Imports; you signed “2Good + 2Be = 4Gotten” in that bitchy girl from P.E.’s yearbook; and you dreaded not seeing your BFFAE’s for that two week break from school?
Yeah, neither do I. I just want this school year to be over. The constant driving back and forth from Downtown Miami (where I live) to Coconut Grove (where I intern) to F.I.U. (where I get my learn on) is starting to wear on me and my wallet.
“I stop at McDonald’s or Taco Bell almost three times a week and pretend that a kid’s meal isn’t that bad for me”
I know this isn’t groundbreaking journalism but every time I fill up my car it costs me almost three days of working full time at my minimum wage internship. On top of that I never have time to eat so I have to stop at McDonald’s or Taco Bell almost three times a week and pretend that a kid’s meal isn’t that bad for me. I will never, ever feed my children that crap. I swear that I can actually feel the French fries finding their way out of my digestive tract and burying themselves inside my thighs, forming some sort of mutated rectangular cellulite-type fat deposit.
I’m also so tired at the end of my 13-hour days that I don’t have the energy to do anything but complain about how I don’t have any energy. I’m starting to sound like an old Jewish grandma. I should just change my name to Ruthie now. Everyday I wake up and I say, “Oy, my back, this hurts worse than my bunion that looks like Al Roker.” Seriously, I am falling apart. Because I’m so run down I’m always getting sick, but I can’t miss work or school, so then I end up infecting everyone like a plague-ridden horse fly. I’m a walking, mumbling, achy, stressed out nightmare.
I just have to keep reminding myself that this is good for my future. I just have to keep telling myself that all this work and no play will pay off in the end. I hope one day as I’m sitting in my ergonomic Bang & Olfusen swivel chair, writing copy for some hysterical ad, I will look back on my days as a porky, stressed out, chronically ill intern-cum-student and thank my lucky stars that I made it out alive.
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