I could never be President

I envy Sarah Palin and Michelle Bachmann in some ways. For example, they seem to have no idea when they have said or done something they should regret. I, unfortunately, know full well about the mistakes that I have made and their impact on any future political aspirations I may harbor. This is another one of those times where if you don’t actually want to know more about me as a person I suggest you come back tomorrow or read something from the archive.

I feel like politics is one of those professions that you need to know you want to go into from an early age in order to do really cultivate the right image. Very few people are charismatic enough to overcome the indiscretions of youth regardless of how many of your constituents have done the same thing. People want to believe that politicians are wise and good decision makers. They want to vote for the Designated Driver not the guy doing headstands at the fraternity keg party. That only works once (cough*George W*cough).

I used to want to be in politics. I love our justice system despite its flaws and have the same love for the concept and theories behind our government process. I used to dream of life on the hill. That is until I realized how much fun was to be had in life as a private citizen. Don’t worry this is a story of redemption and I promise that I turn out good in the end.

My downward spiral away from my squeaky clean image began the summer before my senior year in high school when I got my 1^st tattoo at the age of 16. Yes, it is illegal to tattoo a 16 year old and I will tell you the same thing that I told my mother when she asked who did it, “Telling is not going to get me in less trouble so why bother?” I then entered what I will refer to as my “Free Love” phase. I don’t know if I will ever say how “free” my love was, but I used to have a list and some had no last names and others were just a description. I once had a guy threaten that he had taped us. I don’t know if that was true or not, but I AM sure that once he saw the look of boredom and disgust on my face he deleted before anyone else saw how “skilled” he was. (Just to clarify, those are mocking quotes.)

The next milestone in my footloose and fancy free living was the fight I had my freshman year of college. It was a wonderful mix of comedy and drama and took place in a nightclub that resulted in me being put on what the school described as residence hall probation. It could have been way worse, but that was one of those times where being a student athlete and a minority actually worked in my favor. Supposedly, the police were called, but I never saw them and to be honest had no plans on looking for them either. Who needs to risk having a mug shot revelation during campaign season? Not me.

In my defense I did not drink until I was 21 and was never really that into it. I have never done drugs, which surprises people considering my inability to remember large portions of time. I am positive my amnesia is selective. I was always a part of student government and had already mapped out my next steps in life. I knew what grad school, what program and what job would get me a gov’t mansion and I knew that if I could stop clowning around I still had a shot.

Then I became friends with weed heads. Now don’t get me wrong, they had been in the background of my life (ex-boyfriends & classmates), but now they were my friends. I was riding in the car with them. I knew they would not be a good look, but I didn’t care. Then I started clubbing - nothing like seeing your future Senator in leopard print pants and a tube top.

Then I went to Cancun and traded a booty shot for a lei. I don’t think that video ever went to the people from the Gone Wild franchise because if they looked closely they would have seen Mother Nature’s little string and realized the joke was on them. So far you are probably thinking that I could totally run because there is no evidence, but you are wrong. This is where it gets worse. I like many a girl under the delusion of being serious with a guy politically torpedoed myself with the risqué photos. You know the kind that seem like a good idea when you are in a relationship and you are sure that he would never show them, but the minute you break-up you realize that the will forever be lurking in the background waiting for the right opportunity to pounce and ruin your life. That moment is always right before you run for office or win an Oscar.

I had to be honest and tell husband that they existed along with the other list of my offenses and he let me know that he loved me, but that I was one stripper pole away from being single. To which I responded by letting him know that a friend once offered to manage me should I want to do it for extra cash because I used be a magnet for mid-life crisis sufferers. You know, the guys looking to trade in the 40 (year old wife) for 2 20’s. He did not laugh, but he did propose.

Sometime after I graduated I realized that I was no longer enjoying the life I was living and gave my heart to God. I am now reasonably different than the person who did the aforementioned things and some I am still debating on ever telling anyone, but what makes for a good testimony in church only makes me look like a loose woman with poor judgment in an attack add. So, so long Washington. Or maybe I should keep talking and take the 8 Mile, Barack Obama approach and just tell on myself. NAH!