in which brooke gets accepted into college.

Friday, February 25, 2011

There are not many things I am sure of regarding the future. Questions are perpetually being churned about in my mind: is my more-than occasional trip to the tanning salon going to result in me looking like a leather bag? Is my incessant snacking on all things chocolate and salty going to limit my wardrobe options in the future to moo-moos? Am I going to eventually start sweating Diet cherry Coke? When will Justin Bieber mature?!?
But right now, there is one thing I am sure of regarding the future: I am going to BYU!
Hooray.
At 4:00 on Wednesday my mom texted me telling me that the acceptance/denial letters were being sent out that day. I broke into a fit of ‘I-should-have’s’ (‘I should have been nicer in seminary’, ‘I should have been less frequent with flipping the bird’, ‘I should have revealed my always-enticing knees less!’). I felt like I was going to die!
My mom summoned the bearded one to distracting me. The whole evening was spent trying to ease my nerves by drinking mass amounts of chocolate shakes at The Hong Kong Cafe (you wouldn’t think they had such delicious chocolate shakes, but they do) and making unnecessary purchases at Hastings and Ross (isn’t everything at Ross sort of unnecessary?)(also, if you’re wondering, the purchase was a moo-moo…just in case). I felt like I was a pregnant lady just waiting for my water to break (sick). Except I could be having an actual human-child or an alien.
Finally, at 9:30, my water broke (sick). My sister charged into my room and announced that I had been accepted. My family quickly followed and offered various enthusiastic shouts and squeals.
Oddly, I wasn’t as excited as I thought I would be. I mean, I was. But I was so exhausted from being nervous and roaming the mall that I couldn’t express it properly. I was Christmas-day excited as well as Christmas-day exhausted.
But I’m accepted! And I’m going!
(Is it bad that every time I think about it I happily and creatively curse in my brain?)
P.S. I wonder if I prance around in my moo-moo real fancy-like Jimmer will stay another year?
I think so.



Only in Utah.

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