True Story
When I was little, I’d often get asked the same tired question by well-meaning adults, “What do you want to be when you grow up?”
Instead of the standard firefighter or ballerina response, I’d answer what I truly felt was the coolest job I could think of. “I wanna’ think up the names for nail polish and lipsticks.”
“What, dear?”
“I’m gonna’ be the person who thinks of names like Melon-Berry Cha-Cha and Midnight Magenta Mayhem,” I’d chirp, unwittingly describing the role of a copywriter. And invariably this adult would turn to my parents and say, “She’s not like the others, is she?”
Welcome to my world.
