Upstairs At the White House

a picture I stole from Amanda from our ten year high school reunion, which omg was last week

Sometime during law school, I stopped reading for pleasure. The Brittney from ten years ago would be ashamed of what I had become, but if that chick said anything to my face I would just laugh at her because omg, why are you perming your hair youareridiculous. A lot can change in a decade.

In 2005 I was a senior in high school, and when grownups asked what I was going to do with my life I told them I wanted to be the head chef at the White House. I still consider this a totally viable career option at this point, by the way. Teenage Brittney repeated that ambition a thousand times, but it had been forever since that almost-life crossed my mind. Then last month, my mom mailed me a magazine article about the current head chef at the White House. “Remember your plan to become the White House chef? Who knew you would have been the first female?! Love, Mom.” Her note made me smile, remembering this version of myself that I had all-but forgotten.

And do you know what else I was going on in my life ten yeas ago? I was a reader. And that girl is finally making a comeback. I have to carve out the time, but I am, and I feel like I am uncovering a version of myself that I loved and missed. I just finished reading Upstairs At the White House. It's a fascinating book in its own right, but this week it almost feels like a talisman, protecting a past that I might have abandoned. I crawl into the bed at my parent's house with my White House book, and remember the 17-year-old Brittney crawling into bed with her book. She wanted to move to DC, she dreamed about the courses she'd one day serve the First Family, and she permed her hair like an idiot.

b perry

p.s. related: Goodreads. I love that place, and if you're on there we should be friends immediately.