Judge Not...

..Lest yet be judged for the not one, but two New Kids on the Block Joe dolls I used to have. I had one from my brother and one from my best friend. Lord knows where they ended up, but I guess I should be glad the evidence of my giggling girl days are long gone. Or I should be pissed that I had one still in the box and who knows what that would fetch on eBay. (Apparently ten bucks if I'm lucky.)

Why this confession? I found myself spitting on the anticipated release of Twilight on DVD while gagging over the thought of the Jonas Brothers. Then I freaked out because it's been about ten year since my similar reaction to the Backstreet Boys. (Although secretively, I did want it that way....) I pretend that I don't understand the legions of girls that go nuts for these guys, but then I had to remember that I was once like them.

The first concert I ever attended was a New Kids concert. I remember after church my parents asked my brothers to go ahead into the house, they had to talk to me and my sister. Thinking we were in trouble, I was even more excited to find out they bought us tickets. Looking back, my mom and dad were AMAZING parents to suffer that for their daughters. (I now fear what I may have to be exposed to fifteen years down the road. Maybe I should play my eggs some Yo-Yo Ma and start them in a dignified direction. )

As for Twilight, (aka, Bram Stoker's Romeo and Juliet) again I shouldn't judge. I read Sweet Valley High as a young girl. You know, pretty people with problems. It helped prepare me for enjoying the original 90210. Rich pretty people with problems adds an extra element.

We all have these skeletons in our closet. But I'm choosing to no longer hide behind my hypocrisy and admit on my anonymous blog that I once enjoyed girly tempations. I guess the Bible's right. Be true to thine own self, and to thine owns self be true. (You know, the seventh commandment.)