List of Things I’ll Never Do Again

I’m excessively bored and in dire need of things to do and write about. This is like a reverse New Year’s resolution—instead of a list of new things to try or accomplish, it’s a compendium of regrets. Mistakes in judgement you vow to never make again. I certainly have a few of those. This is by no means an exhaustive list.

Wear shoes that are too tight

This one is at the forefront of my mind due to my throbbing foot that’s been bothering me the past few weeks. I made the mistake of throwing on a pair of flats at work because I needed something more professional than sneakers to wear and I only had a few pair under my desk to choose from, and these no longer fit properly. I have a hard time finding shoes that fit me properly…I have small but very wide feet, and regrettably they seem to have gotten even wider. After a few minutes of wearing the flats, my feet hurt so much I was limping. I wound up only wearing them for a few hours before abandoning them in agony.

The kicker? This was 2 YEARS AGO. The @#*ing flats squeezed my right foot so much they did some damage, and it never healed properly. It acts up every now and then to this day.

Not climbing to the top of Notre Dame when we were in Paris in 2013

There is a staircase that leads to one of the bell towers of Notre Dame Cathedral, from which you can look out a window and see all of Paris. It was 387 steps. I had originally planned for us to brave the climb, but when we got to the Cathedral that day my feet were tired (we had done a TON of walking already over the previous week) and I decided I didn’t feel like climbing all those stairs. After the roof of the Cathedral got badly damaged in the fire in 2019, I really wish we had sucked it up and made the climb, given that we may never have that chance again. I’m thankful that we at least got to go inside and see the Cathedral on the ground floor. It is absolutely gorgeous.

Eat Tripe

I am not a picky eater. I’ll try anything. Only take my advice, folks. Don’t ever eat tripe. EVER. For ANY reason. It is vile. An abomination against God and man.

Starbucks Pike’s Place coffee

I’m normally a fan of Starbucks, but this stuff tastes like cigarette butts. Just don’t do it.

Document anything that you’re not ok with the whole world knowing

We all have our secrets, brutally honest opinions, harsh truths, etc.…but as soon as you document these somewhere, its out there. For anyone to find. And they will find them. In the 7^th grade I once made the mistake of passing a note to my friend in Social Studies that made fun of my teacher, Ms. M’s, bad hair dye-job…and the teachers found the notebook we used to pass notes in and read all of them…That year Ms. M signed my yearbook “Yes Amanda—my hair WAS orange!”

Gulp.

Order the salad when you really want the cheeseburger

I have nothing against a good salad, but on the rare occasion when I do eat out—I figure you might as well go the whole hog and get whatever sugar-coated, carb-loaded, grease-laden thing your gluttonous heart desires. I forced myself to order a salad for dinner when I was dining out once (and only once) years ago after deciding that I was putting on too much weight and needed to go on a diet. I spent the rest of the evening hangry.  

I hate diets. I loathe diets. I do not have the self-discipline to diet. I decided a few years back that the solution to keeping in some semblance of shape was to just establish an exercise routine I could stick with and do that instead. I exercise so I can consume all the beer and cheeseburgers I like with impunity.

Anything after the 2^rd martini

Nothing good ever happens after the first two martinis. Only pain and suffering…

…Just kidding. 😉 We’ve met before, right??! Just wanted to make sure my readers were still paying attention.

Convincing people I don’t care when I actually do

I can’t properly emote for shit. Particularly when it comes to terms of endearment. It’s a long-standing problem. I’m chalking it up to a combination of introversion and a long string of unreciprocated emotional connections in my youth. In place of warm words are grunts of affirmation. At work, I’m that person who pranks her coworkers’ cubicles and puts googly eyes on inanimate objects once we’ve built up a rapport. Juvenile barbs are more often than not my demented way of showing affection. But multiple times now in adulthood I have lost or come dangerously close to losing people because of my feigned aloofness, and I am determined not to let this happen again, even if it kills me.