Goals. Slay em.

Couples Goals!  Mom Goals!  She’s goals!  Body Goals!  They’re goals!

I was hearing about these goals over and over and over again.  For pretty much the past year.  From the mouths of my teens.

One night I finally said to them, “Me and Carl (my boytoy) are couples goals right?”

Loud laughter.  “NO mom!  You don’t understand what that means!”
I insisted I did.  And I insisted that we are couple goals.   They asked me what I thought it meant to be “GOALS”.

It means that we are hot.  And sexy.  And a good couple.  And hot.  And sexy.  And good looking.  And you want to be us.

Ummmmmm… that did not go over to well with them.  Definitely I did not understand what they were talking about when referring to GOALS.

They insisted that we were NOT hot, we were old.  And we were gross.  Especially when we kiss on the couch in front of them.  Because we are not GOALS.

They then told me that my good  friend was mom GOALS.   Oh hell no!   I was super jealous of this.  I asked them if it was because she was so nice and pretty and I swear all the time?  They  told me nooooooo, it was because she didn’t parent.  And that was sooooooo MOM GOALS!   Okay.  Whatever that means.

“Oh look at her hair, it’s goals.”
“Her body is goals”.

ugh.

I don’t care what they say. I think I am goals.  I mean, I HAVE goals.  Like to not drink too much tonite so I don’t waste the day away tomorrow with my mom hangover but can still feel really good about 9:00 p.m.  Or to get on the treadmill at some time today, even though it is already 6:00 pm and I am about to leave the house to go get Portillo’s.  Or to watch these three movies I have until Monday to watch or I will get charged 50 cents a day from the library until returned.  Or my goal of this lipstick piñata for my daughters birthday party to be done so I can quit looking at it on my bedroom floor, even though I cannot find the glue gun for the pink, black and gold crepe paper that has to be glued all around the sides.

I’m wearing a green beat up old AF army jacket right now.  And ugly mom capri  jeans.  And have my broken glasses on.  My goal is to not be looking like this.  On a Friday night.  Damn.

Goals.

They are good to have.

And be.

Whatever!!   I don’t care what they say. I am GOALS.  And I bet you are too, even if it is low key goals.

Yeah.  Don’t even get me started on low key.  This jacket is LIT and I am LEGIT the SH*T~!  And I’m gonna SLAY this blog.  And if they don’t stop making me question my middle age awesomeness, I am going to slay them.  Now there’s a goal!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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