The Summer I Turned Pretty Playful

A love triangle between me, whimsy, and worry

If you’re anything like me — a 25-year-old teenager spending her Wednesday nights watching season three of TSITP and eating Sour Patch Kids in #TeamConrad solidarity — then you’re well acquainted with love triangles. However, my personal Cousins Beach saga is spawning in the San Francisco area, my very own home and headspace.

The love triangle I’m trapped in is between me, whimsy, and worry. To put it in TSITP terms (disclaimer: potential unpopular opinion ahead), Jeremiah is “worry” personified. Worry has me mothering little stressors in my mind, doctoring wounds I need to let heal. It’s cheating me of a life full of the sun, turning me blue. But Conrad, he’s the whimsy, the possibility of infinite summers, the reason my cheeks blush red, the first love I had as a child that I keep returning to.

But in these magical months between June and August, I vowed to myself that this would be the summer I turned pretty…playful. I’d take the whimsical panorama my eyes whipped up as a little girl, and bring it into my adulthood. I’ll think of younger Clio, who wanted to paint her nails a dozen shades of pink, and wear tulle skirts* and polka dots with high heels that were two sizes too big for her feet. I can live a colorful life for the both of us.

As the queen of pink and summer, Sharpay Evans, once said, “Out with the old, and in with the new” is the key to a fabulous life. And you know what? I’m okay with these pressing worries becoming ancient ruins that collect dust for once. So, let’s have a go, shall we?

1. Old Worry: I like to know the menu before I go out to eat.

New Whimsy: Accept the invite to the dinner reservation! No peaking!

2. Old Worry: My dancing days are behind me.

New Whimsy: Take the ballet class! Wear a tulle skirt*

3. Old Worry: I’m not taken seriously at my age.

New Whimsy: Put the tinsel in your hair anyway!

Now what if you’re walking this tightrope of playfulness, and fall? Whimsy will catch you. It’s her job! She takes you at your spontaneous best and at the lowest portrait of yourself because she’s an expert at turning things to glitter.

If you’re in the Jenny Han universe, which you must be if you’re watching the aforementioned show, then you must see the invisible string tying us to the folklore album right about now. More specifically, the lyrics in the song “mirrorball,” which affirm my oftentimes performative and worrisome nature.

To put it plainly, “fun” doesn’t always come easy to me — there are strings attached. Which makes me a mastermind’s marionette, a puppet that plays only at the command, and in the hands, of someone else’s control.

Like a mirrorball, I desire to dress up as my most dazzling self. I want to shine all around the room, to spin and dance even when no one’s watching. But this performance gets dizzying, and eventually the lights will shut off. When I’m not reflecting light, when I fall off the tightrope, or when I let worry call the shots, do I have the courage to try again?

The advice I prescribe myself is a hard pill to swallow, but here it is: Do not let worry whisper sweet nothings in your ear. Rather, when whimsy pulls up in a convertible, hop in, let the hair fly from your neck, and let your eyes squint in the sun, blinded by the road of adventure you’re speeding on.

Right now, in mid-July, you are halfway through the magic months, and it will not be the summer you turn pessimistic, performative, pressured, petty, pompous, paranoid, or passive-agressive. This is the summer you turn to playfulness and kiss her on the cheek in adoration. You’re gonna love her, I promise.