Question: When you hear the words “It’s a Boy!,” do you a) Scream ‘Helllll yeahhhhh, we never have to pay for a wedding!’ or b) Smile, while your dreams of wearing matching tu-tus and glittery shirts that say ‘Queen’ and ‘Princess’ go up in smoke.

If you’re like me, you picked A.  Having a boy means that I will never need to explain the inner-workings of tampons (except for that awkward time my son asked “What exactly do you DO with those Tampax?”), and that I dodged that whole mother/daughter hatred thing that happens during the teenage years.  (I swear, I know someone whose 15 year-old called her a ‘deranged cougar’ when she suggested saving sex for marriage.)  But it also means that I have a fountain of super-important wisdom I will never get to share with a daughter.

Feel free to take a screenshot, because those of you with girls may want to pass these gems on:

▪  Shoes are like Spanx: they can make you feel skinnier, sexier, and more powerful- without causing you to lose consciousness on the dance floor at your sister’s wedding after 12 hours of wear, 4 martinis, and a little too much YMCA-ing.

▪  You should make friends with your hairstylist, your bikini waxer, your ex, your doctor, and your mother.  (Exception: if your doctor is super hot, like mine is, the word ‘friends’ can be loosely translated to ‘just keep your boobs inside your shirt when you see him so that the phrase restraining order is never mentioned.’***)

▪  Learn how to jump-start a car, kill a spider, and throw a punch.

▪  Your first boyfriend will be a total douchewagon.  Beware of the Metro (his eyebrows are better maintained than yours), the Hipster (his scarf is prettier than yours), the Rocker (he hates Taylor Swift, and really, this is like saying he hates America or sunshine), and the Superfan (he forgets your birthday but remembers every year Notre Dame won the championship).

▪  You look amazing in a bathing suit.  Period.  Fast forward 20 years, when your child brings home an assignment asking for a 1-word description of you, and he writes FLUFFY.  At this point, you will  pin 187 diet tricks on Pinterest, hire a therapist and a personal trainer (and consider suing the teacher for libel), and wish you had worn more bikinis in your 20s.

▪  Be yourself.  I don’t care if this means getting a tattoo of Harry Potter’s pet owl, wearing a tiara to the office every day, or just blurting out the honest truth at a dinner party when the mother of a 1 year-old says she’s never left her baby, and you yell: “I booked a trip to Bermuda on my smartphone while they were stitching up my episiotomy!”  People might judge, but you?  Are pretty Cool.

**Shout-out to Doc, for not pressing charges!

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