I would…
Skydive. Tomorrow.
Pack my backpack and head off to Europe for an undetermined amount of time. Followed by South America, Thailand, India and Australia.
Do a yoga teacher training course in Bali.
Learn how to scuba dive.
Bake and ice a three-tier wedding cake.
Knit a pair of baby booties.
Quit my job and sit down for three months straight to write down the story that won’t stop bashing around in my brain.
Go topless on the beach.
Walk around in a bikini without sucking my tummy in.
Sit in a bikini without sucking my tummy in.
Stop sucking my tummy in full stop.
Say no to the things and people who waste my time and suck the energy out of my existence.
Fall pregnant.
Tell that person how and why he broke my heart into a million pieces.
Forgive that person.
Let Andrew go on a three week boys trip to Ibiza.
Give my entire month’s salary to someone who REALLY needs it. And then,
Put everything on the credit card.
Dye my hair pink. Or blue. Turquoise.
Get another tattoo. In a visible place.
Stop drinking.
Run a marathon.
Get serious about my health. Like six-pack serious.
Buy a herd of alpacas.
Get married again. In a short gyspy dress, with flowers in my hair and sandals on my feet, on a desert island somewhere, with no one in attendance but my husband and I.
Write down my dreams.
Delete this blog and save all my creativity and clever ideas for that novel mentioned above.
Be honest. (the hardest, scariest thing of all)
What would you do?
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