“Here’s your one chance, Fancy, don’t let me down.” I was 16 or 17 when I first heard the song. My parents didn’t listen to country music so I “discovered” it on my own and it became fiercely mine. When I started driving I had total control of the radio and I exercised that freedom like a sailor on shore leave. I wasn’t entirely sure what her mama meant when she said “Just be nice to the gentlemen, Fancy,” but the refrain “Here’s your one chance” resonated with me. One chance. It was around this same time that 8 Mile came out and Eminem rapped about only getting one shot -- do not miss your chance! This idea of one chance, one shot, one time, that’s all you’ve got -- I internalized that.
Fast forward, I’m staring down the end of my twenties and sugar, my twenties were a beast. I’d blown my shot. I spent my twenties--my “prime”--having babies with men who abused and took advantage of me, got married and divorced, started and stopped college three times, graduated with debt and a degree barely triaged from transferring, then at 29 diagnosed with cancer. Literally, I was just trying to survive, and I’d missed my shot to do anything big with my life.
This isn’t a sob story, though, so don’t check out on me here. I remarried (to a wonderful man), had a third baby and work side hustles to stay home with my kids. I have a great life. But I’ve been really battling this idea that I’ve lost my “one chance”. My one chance to live a glamourous life, to travel, to be someone who does something and builds something and does more than shuffle through each day making sure everyone has clean clothes and dinner. Because of the bad choices I made at 19 and 20 and 22 and 24 and yesterday, I’m “cold product”. I’m a second string woman, rode hard and put away wet, discounted, less than, used up, and I should be thankful I have a family and a husband and a life after the stunts I pulled. It’s a gift that I’m tolerated at all, so I'll just sit at the table and be glad I’m allowed in the room. I’m past my expiration date, wasted my life.
At 30, that sounds ludacris. And if anyone is an example that you get more than one chance it’s Luda! As the great John Mulaney says, the idea that tonight’s the night, the only night we have--that’s such 19 year old bullsh*t! It’s ridiculous, it’s a lie!! But it’s a lie I have believed and have allowed to take hold in me and keep me from pursuing my dreams, from obeying God, and from teasing up my hair and wearing bright lipstick!
So here’s my next chance. And if you have felt this way, this is your next chance too. The story Reba told was fun to sing, but it’s not your life motto. You get more chances. Pretty teacups and Dolly Parton and sparkly earrings aren’t gonna solve all your problems but they probably aren’t gonna hurt you either. There are much more important things than things, but sometimes things are important too. Especially if they make you smile when you look at them, or warm your friends heart when you say, “I saw this and thought of you and just HAD to get it for you!” We may not have the same taste, but I bet we both like to take a bite of what looks good just the same. This space is a combination vintage resale, craft fair, life empowering and encouraging space.
So--I’m B, and I’m gonna be fancy as often as I can. And I hope you’ll come be fancy with me too.