While at the gym tonight with my friend, I had this sudden realization. It hit me like a ton of bricks out of nowhere! I am 28 years old and I have a lot of stories to tell! But how many of these stories will I want to tell my daughters as they grow up?
I remember one of my friends telling me how she did some "wild things" when she was younger. I think it involved donning a bikini and running around outside. I thought this was so beautiful! This "wild child" story of her youth was so innocent in my eyes. I couldn't bare to reply with the tale of when some friends and I striped naked and danced in a graveyard. A tale of running outside in a bikini, that is a story I could tell my daughters without feeling awkward. But to tell of times when nudity was no issue to me? No.
I look back now on so many things I have done before and while I chuckle on the inside, I would never want my daughters to repeat half of them.
I don't ever want to lie to my daughters about the things I have done or the person I once was but I don't know if I ever will feel comfortable being 100% honest with them about it all either. I fear the days when they come asking about my youth and finding the balance of being honest with them yet not divulging more then they NEED to know.