I hate cooking.

I don’t know how to sew.

I’m also a tad on the messy side. Guilty.

My mom tried desperately to domesticate me, but I resisted tooth and nail.

With the force of a thousand suns.

Oh yes.

I remember in high school (I was homeschooled), my mom gave me a sewing project for “home economics.”

I had to sew a patch on some pants or something. Something simple.

I did the project.

Afterwards, my mom asked me what I thought about it.

I remember telling her, “I can literally pay someone to do that for me. Some people do that for a living.’ lol

She nearly keeled over then.

All she could muster was, “Whitney LeAnne, I hope you marry rich, then.”

Stormed off.

The funny thing is, I’m a practical woman.

Mom just had a different idea of what practical meant.

I didn’t see a future of darning socks.

But if only she could’ve seen the future.

If she could’ve sat me down and said, “Listen, honey. I know this all seems pointless now.

But one day, you’re going to perform on stage. You’re going to shine. You’re going to make art with your body.

You’re going to want to make costumes. Alter things. You might stand backstage with a needle and thread 5 minutes before showtime because your costume betrayed you.”

It’s possible I would’ve listened.

If only it hadn’t been “girls just learn how to sew,” but FUTURE WHITNEY was going to need that skill, maybe I would have paid attention.

Then again, y’all, I was like, 16 years old.

I might’ve said, “Can’t I just pay someone??”

And Mom might’ve rolled her eyes and said, “Whitney Leanne, I hope you marry rich, then.”

You tried, Mom. You really did.