Happy Birthday Obama!

It's an hour until my birthday as I write this post (yes, sometimes I do schedule them), and all I'm thinking is WHAT THE EFF. I know I'm not turning something in my late 20's or even 30's but besides my killer stomach ache (I mean, who doesn't want that on their birthday...), I'm seriously stunned. Maybe depressed about it, but only a little. Note to self: STOP WORRYING BECAUSE IF YOU GET UPSET EACH BIRTHDAY FOR THE REST OF YOUR LIFE IT WILL SUCK.

In the past year, I'd say I learned a helluva lot about myself. I know everyone says that every year and I'm pretty good at being the stereotypical cliche (hence my statement above), but on the reals as much as I hated this year, it was a pretty good indication about all things me and my future.

In the past year I've: met a Miss USA, got broken up with, changed schools, lose my first close family member, emerge myself into the world of pageantry (ily, networking), met my best friend through blogging (hi Rachael), battled anxiety, learned to appreciate my family and family time so much more, changed schools again, came home, realized what true friendship means, met more blog friends, became my own worst enemy, went on a shit ton of terrible dates, blogged about them (the best part), traveled, rebranded my blog, spent too much money on retail therapy-ing, bettered my writing skills and found my voice, had the opportunity to experience fabulous internships, became a really artsy instagram-er, and ultimately, blog my freaking heart out. Oh! and got a pup (more on that later).

I'm not really sure what I think my last 45 minutes of a teenager wants to say on my corner of the interweb (someone was shocked when I told them I OWN a corner of the internet. I mean who would trust me with that much responsibility?!?) but I know 20 year old me is being sappy as anything. I'd like to shoutout to everyone (I'll take cliches for 400, Alex) who's impacted me in the past year.

To the losers who made me realize what I don't want from a future beau. To the blogging friends (both close and far) to encourage and support every.single.step. Like I've said, blogging is a strange thing (read: fucking weird to those who don't get it), but I wouldn't want it any other way. To netflix for getting me through boredom and avoiding all daunting tasks I should have been doing. And obviously to Monogram Meredith: for giving me the cutest of shirts to wear in any season. I wish I could give you the 411 on everything Meredith and mine's relationship. I'm not sure how it even began besides the fact I designed her pretty little sliver of the web. I would love to look through ancient archives (because its been months now, duh) however it's my birthday and thats a great story for another time (over under on you caring? 0).

All Meredith's products (pillows, tanks, and cover ups) have a sporty handstiched monogram to boot...avec a super rad background design. I think my favroite part of my MM shirt is how funky and easy it is to mix it up into any outfit. I especially love to wear it lazily (I'm guilty). When I'm not dressing nicely (so let's say 99% of the time), my go to is anything comfortable (shorts or leggins depending on mother natures bipolar-ness). In the winter I had fun pairing it with simple leggings and a sweat jacket! In summer, it's easy to throw on with a simple pair of shorts. 

If your looking for some affordable gifts for a birthday friend (cough cough definitely me cough cough), I think hope I directed you to the right spot. Just call me the GPS of birthday gifts, it's fine. Lastly, I'd like to thank my dearest friend Ritz Carlton Ft. Lauderdale for showering me with the princess (that I am) treatment to start my 20th birthday off right. Never stop being you, dawg.

It's a shame that my most exciting moment of my birthday this year will be the fact my age will now say a 2-0 on the big tindy. Hooray for not being a teen! As far as my gift from you goes? Make sure to say hello to Meredith! Here's to beating teen pregnancy (and 364 days until I can buy out a whole shelf of boxed wine)! Sorry ma.