Ever since I was a little girl, I knew I was scared of the passage of time. I did everything in my power to dull the fear. I developed insomnia in fifth grade because I did not want to miss anything. I was so neurotic I gave myself medical FOMO. I would steal my mom’s iPad mini and watch Lady Gaga music videos and Mulan 2. I shared a room with my little brother at the time and probably kept him up all night. He was really happy when we moved and he got his own room. For a straight year, every time I tried to fall asleep a bull would charge at me. He disappeared before he ever got to me, but it scared me enough to not close my eyes. It’s like a metaphor or something and it makes a lot of sense to me.
Since my parents worked late growing up, me and my brother bounced around dozens of babysitters until we went to a school that had a bus. Our very first babysitter’s husband was arrested for possession of indecent images of children six years ago. It was a big deal because he was on a billboard on the highway. Now there’s an actor on the billboard. Most of the babysitters were sorority girls, and they would hang out with their boyfriends most of the time. We would work lemonade stands and make $2, and they pretended like they could be fit parents. One summer, my mom found a college girl who said she could take care of us. She was home for the summer living with her parents, who owned the nicest house in Albuquerque. They had two tennis courts, a fountain in the middle of the entrance to the house, and everything was wrapped in gold leaf. Absolutely no place for two children. The college girl never really came out of her room, but her mom would send us to the guest room to play board games. She would lock the door from the outside, 9am-12, as we tried to figure out how to play Monopoly. She then let us out of the room during lunchtime, and would cook a very elaborate meal. After lunch, we would make our way up the winding staircase and watch Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen VHS tapes. Since I was the older sibling I always picked the movie, and one day we watched Parent Trap for five hours straight. The college girl’s little sister, who was a high school girl, would come home around 5pm and take care of us with her friends. I would do their makeup and ruin their lotions by mixing them together, but I didn’t get a sister until two years after this so it was all just practice. My brother always took videos of us on his Nintendo DS, and in the background you can hear the high school girls talking about needing to leave because they were late for a party. The video goes on for another five minutes. They probably missed the party. I still have the heart-shaped perfume bottle the high school girl gave me to put my mixed lotions in. I only met the college girl twice. This went on for the whole summer.
The very first “actual job” I had was an untaxed assistant position for a gynecologist. She also did Botox. I went to carpet stores with her, and convinced her to buy cheetah print carpet for her basement. She drove me around in her mini van, and let me inject a construction worker. You would be surprised the amount of construction workers who come in to get Botox. It’s like 2 more than you think. She would always tell me you’re never too young to get work done.


