A Timeline of Abandoned F*cks

I'm reading The Life-Changing Magic of Not Giving a F*ck by Sarah Knight. 

Synopsis: A parody on the popular The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up, it's a light-hearted, snarky guide to mental de-cluttering. 

Knight's book is timely read as I'm forced to examine my abandoned fucks through the lens of my significant other. "You can't just be an old grumpy woman who doesn't like anything but old Jay-Z songs," he says. But if I don't give a fuck what I'm missing as a result…why not?* 

I'm true to this no-fuck giving lifestyle. Starting in 1992 when the pain and scarring of learning to ride a bike wasn't worth the end result, so I  stopped. I missed out on riding bikes with my friends that summer. Instead, I discovered my love for storytelling via soap operas and playing Barbies and *drum roll please* started writing short stories. 

(I bet you didn't find your calling riding bikes with your friends. Perhaps you could've used more quiet reflection when you were a kid.) 

Anyway, in the spirit of Fucks Left Behind, I present SBG's Timeline of Abandoned Fucks: a Memoir.

1994 – I couldn't find the logic in playground games that required me to hide, run around, or avoid being tagged "it." I read or journaled during recess instead. 

1996 – While all my classmates rode for 2Pac, I didn't give a fuck and lived for BIG because he had better raps.

2001 – After a hair-bleaching incident gone terribly wrong, I cut my lifetime back-length hair into a short bob, and dyed it red. Never gave a fuck about "having long hair" again.

2002 – My family thought I was better than the college I wanted to attend, but no one raised any funds for my education. I accepted my full-ride to Wilberforce University, had the best four years of my life, and graduated college debt-free. 

2004 – The first time I heard Remy Ma's "Conceited." Stopped giving a fuck about being humble. 

2006 – Was told I needed to wear make-up to look like an adult when I joined the workforce. Developed headaches trying to determine if my skin was warm, cool, olive or neutral. Abandoned mission. 

2008 – After giving too many fucks led to a nearly life-ending depressive episode, I stopped caring if people thought I was crazy and wrote honestly about depression and recovery on my blog.

2010 – Realized opinion is really the lowest form of human knowledge and stopped giving a fuck how anyone felt about anything on the Internet.

2011 – The first time I heard "Marvin's Room." Stopped giving a fuck about Drake's music. 

2012 – Became a minimalist. Eliminated fucks about forcing "color" into my wardrobe when I naturally gravitated toward black. Relatedly, I stopped worrying about decorating my apartment. 

2015 – Spent a year and some change not giving a fuck about men. Lived in blissful, undisturbed peace. 

2016 – Stopped giving a fuck about new social media platforms. Actively ignoring everyone's mad dash to Snap Chat. 

[*] I did let him hip me to the new Chance the Rapper album. While I'll never listen to it on my own, it doesn't sound bad at all. If you're reading, babe, your efforts to keep me hip aren't all wasted.  

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