Gringa and Groom: Then & Now: Lioness Edition

At first glance, it doesn't look like much has changed with me since high school. I still like baseball, I still like to dance, and I am still physically unable to get a tan. Oh and, of course, I was a Disney geek...even in 1999.

{I'm so sorry, Sister Lioness!}

Yikes. Shall we move on to post-braces days? Good. Glad we're in agreement.

When you take a closer look, though, I have changed quite a bit. Sure, I'm still the same goofy gal, but I like that gal a lot more now than I did back then. It's the age-old cliche: I was an insecure and angst-ridden teen, then I found myself, now I'm a confident adult. But it's true. Over the years, I've learned to embrace my quirks. Some of my oddest qualities are now among my favorite and because of this, I've learned to befriend people who feel the same way and move past those who don't.

My views on love have evolved as I have. I've always known that I wanted to get married. I've always known that I wanted to be a bride and to have a big wedding, but more importantly, I've always wanted to fall in love. Papa Lioness always told me that the only man deserving of that love was someone who "treated me like a princess and as an intellectual equal." One high school boyfriend treated me like a princess, though the equality department was lacking a bit. My feminist side didn't put up with that too well, so when he moved away to college, I welcomed the opportunity to end the relationship and move on. I started dating my second high school boyfriend, who met the other of my dad's criteria. He respected my intelligence, but didn't exactly treat me like a princess.

But the thing about feeling insecure and growing into yourself is that you'd rather be in a sub-par relationship than be alone. I stayed in each of these relationships for far longer than I should have. I settled, because at least that meant I had a boyfriend. In hindsight, now that I'm older and wiser, I needed to love myself independently before I could find someone who deserved me according to my dad's criteria. So, I was single for a while, "found myself," and grew up. Then, under the inspiration of The Great Carrie Bradshaw, I added a new criterion to my dad's list: to find someone who loved the me that I loved. Once I loved myself, love found me.

Mr. Lion consistently treats me like a princess, and as an intellectual equal. But most of all, he loves me for me. He loves every one of my stupid quirks, good and bad. I think the same holds true for friendships, too. I keep in touch with very few people from high school, but it's definitely quality over quantity. Three of my best friends from high school are in our wedding party. We've all grown so much over the years, but our friendships have evolved along with us.