Sore throats and raspy goodness

This post is sponsored by popsicles. 

Just kidding. I wish. Can you imagine how amazing a popsicle sponsor would be? All red 40 fears aside, popsicles are my go to favorite treat of all time, especially when we are all harboring sore throats that refuse to go away. 

My entire life I always wanted to lose my voice. Stupid aspiration, I know, but from the first time I saw Brittany Murphy in Clueless,  I was hell bent on having one of those sexy chic, raspy voices. In high school  my best friend and  I would yell into pillows at horribly high and low sound frequencies in hopes that we would lose our voices. I'm not really sure where we got this idea, but I'm sure it was something that we read in YM and believed to be true. The problem was, however that it didn't work. I was never able to lose my voice. My hopes of having a raspy voice slowly disappeared, as I got older I quickly realized that I was too broke and afraid of cancer in college to start smoking. I gave up on the idea of ever sounding as sexy as B-Murph (RIP) and actually forgot about that whole weird obsession, until now. 

But life has a funny way of marrying your past and present. Yup...it finally happened . I completely and utterly lost my voice. But instead of feeling the overwhelming sense of accomplishment that I thought I would feel, I just have this raging sore throat and an obnoxiously squeaky slash too loud deep speaking tone. There's a reason that Tara Reid doesn't have an acting career anymore (besides Sharknado, of course). 

Raspy is so 2000. 

It's over and done,  like those colorful monogram Dooney an Burke purses. 

It's especially over for the parenting set that usually speaks in a loud tone to be heard. Don't get me wrong, I am always ultra-inspired by the Huffington post articles that tell me that yelling at children  is wrong, but  I don't exactly subscribe to the idea that quiet voices really work with toddlers. Take me for instance.  I grew up in a home where yelling was the only form of communication, not out of anger, but with two factory working parents, selective hearing was a real thing, and sometimes it's just fun to hoot and holler out of excitement. 

If anything this sore throat business has really taught me the lesson that the raspy grass isn't always greener an that no one wants to hear you try to warble out hymns at church, and that lip- synching feels wrong, and that even high school Jess would buck up and say that she misses her normal voice and wants it back. 

Until then I'll keep living under the belief that popsicles contain healing powers, and that my children will listen no matter what. 

Denial is a sweet sweet thing. 

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