I did it. I hate to admit it, but I did it.
I’ve joined the club of soccer moms, obsessed with their kid’s athletic abilities.
The moms who delay the drop off/pick up process every day at school.
I’ve become a Birkenstock wearing, earth loving, hippie.
Someone who covers every last inch of their bumper with social injustice bumper stickers. Free Tibet! Equality! Legalize medical marijuana! Boring women rarely make history! NPR! Warning, I stop for Goodwill stores!
Move over cautious drivers! This momma is now on the road!
I will no longer be able to park properly in parking lots.
I can now sneer at Honda Pilot drivers.
Finding my car in when coming out of a baseball game will now be impossible without activating the panic button.
Coupled with my short hair, I will now solidify my place in the lesbian community. Thus resulting in never being asked out on a heterosexual date again.
In short, I bought a Subaru. I now fall into all the aforementioned stereotypes, and then some. Despite my need for speed, previous Pilot ownership, and brightly covered tattoos; I am now one of “those” moms. This new purchase has given me the urge to go to the nearest Newbury Comics location and buy up all the Slayer and Anthrax bumper stickers they have in stock. I will have to blast Portishead and Primus albums as I roll through the drop off line in the morning. The struggle is real my friends, and I have thrown myself into the thick of it.