Me in 50 words… It pretty much sums it all up.
Well, not really…
I’m Erica. I live in the quiet ‘burbs, but at heart? I’m a NYC-kind of girl. Sometimes, I like to imagine I’m like this:
But with me and my gal, I’m more like this:
Photo Courtesy of Donna Connor
I grew up going to Catholic school. Hated it at the time, but when my first college English professor complimented my writing style and told me, “I can tell you went to Catholic school by the way you write.” I was sold.
Here’s where I date myself. I was a child of the 80s and 90s. I listened to hair bands… and grunge rock of the Seattle sound. Eddie Vedder “spoke” to me.
In high school, my friend and I wrote a ‘zine called Boundless Reject. Inspired by Pearl Jam and Nirvana ( soooo nineties…) we wrote about being indie, being grunge, about how jocks hated us me, and smoking cigarettes.
I thought I was a pretty bad-ass, self-proclaimed Riot Grrrl, and that ‘zine landed me in the principal’s office at least twice, and gave my parents plenty to worry about.
I was in and out of treatment centers and therapists’ couches for anorexia, and I still struggle with food issues from time to time… though I am “recovered.”
I was a television producer for a national home shopping channel before moving on to local top-ten market news before getting completely out of that sinking ship television and now work in health care, which I love.
I am a freelance writer who thinks “One day I will write a book…” but I’m not sure if I think that way because I think I should think it, or because I believe it.
I am a Spinning instructor, who’s super-sweet attitude and smile make up for the fact that I. Will. Kick. Your. Ass. In. Class.
I met my husband on line, and I am forever grateful for him. He puts up with my sophomoric behavior, we get each other’s humor, he lets me smack his heiny before he jumps in the shower, his big arms hold me tight.
I’ve rapped with Mr. T. I’ve interviewed Gloria Steinem.
And, I’ve been to Joan Rivers’ home.
I’m sarcastic to a fault, roll my eyes often and don’t bother whispering when I have something to complain about say.
I am a Mother. And, every day I struggle with questions like:
- How can I make sure she doesn’t date a total douche that could very well be cast on MTV’s “Jersey Shore”?
- If I make her listen to enough indie rock, will it ensure she doesn’t listen to ‘Lil Wayne?
- Will my own insecurities be passed on to her?
- Does this sleep-deprived look of desperation and confusion make me look fat?
- Do people really think Jenny McCarthy is funny??
But, above all else, I am constantly reminding myself that regardless of what I’ve done and where I’m going, I am me. I have a self, and it is fabulous.
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