I finally have something in common with Britney Spears. No, I
haven’t shaved my head. And I haven’t been to rehab. And I never
married and divorced a wannabe rapper with questionable fashion
sense. No, the thing I have in common with Britney is that neither
one of us has a license to drive.
I finally have something in common with Britney Spears. No, I haven’t shaved my head. And I haven’t been to rehab. And I never married and divorced a wannabe rapper with questionable fashion sense. No, the thing I have in common with Britney is that neither one of us has a license to drive.
That’s right. I don’t have a driver’s license. Well, OK, I have one NOW, but apparently, I spent about a month without one. I don’t know how this happened. One day I was a perfectly respectable licensed driver, the next day I was running from the law and cruising the streets of Gilroy illegally.
OK, maybe I wasn’t exactly running from anyone – I make it a policy in fact, to never run anywhere. It gets me all out of breath and my hair gets messed up. So no running. But I was an illegal driver and I didn’t even know it.
Now I blame this lack of knowledge on the simple fact that motherhood has rotted my brain. Really. Look, once you become a mom, you have to remember a lot of stuff. Some of it is easy, like remembering to make dinner. Some is difficult, like helping with sixth grade math homework. (Note to my former math teachers – if I can’t remember my sixth grade math, doesn’t that mean I haven’t used it since then, thus proving it was completely unnecessary for me to learn it in the first place?)
In any event, all that remembering doesn’t leave enough room in my brain for things like renewing my driver’s license. I know I got the renewal thingy. I remember getting it sometime over the summer, before my birthday.
It was a very nice letter from the DMV informing me – ME – that I was such a great driver that they were going to allow me – ME – to renew my license via the internet. I was reassured in my letter that only a chosen few were allowed to do so. Have I mentioned that they picked ME to renew online? Because they did.
And I think that’s when my brain stopped working.
You see, I ran around the house bragging for a minute or two that my license could be renewed online since the DMV had apparently mistaken me for another Laurie Sontag who could actually drive. And then I laid the letter down and forgot about it until one day a store clerk examined my license and said, “you know this is expired, right?”
And that’s when I realized Britney and I could be BFF in DMV jail – because she doesn’t have a license either. And before that could scare the crud out of me, I made an appointment at the DMV and got my new license. Oh, I was a little nervous about it – after all, I didn’t want to take the test again, since I’ve failed it so many times in the past.
Turns out, I didn’t have to take the test. I did, however, spend many agonizing minutes over the hair color section of the form. Did I put my current color? My natural hair color? The color I plan to be after my next hair appointment? This is a commitment. After all, a license lasts for four or maybe five years. Who knows what color hair I might have then?
I finally settled on brown, mainly because it matched my eyes and was easier to spell than “blond.” I can never remember if there’s an “e” or not. Heaven knows I didn’t want to get anything wrong on the form. They might decide to give me the driving test.
And then there is the whole weight question. Obviously, telling the truth was out. Not even really skinny women put their real weight on their driver’s license. But did I lie and say a weight that was closer to my actual weight? Or did I put down my dream weight? Or maybe just the weight I was at five years ago? I really liked that weight. So I put it down. And no, I’m not telling you what it was. That’s a private matter between me, the DMV and the CHP officer giving me a ticket.
Anyway, after that, I sailed through, got my picture taken and signed my name on the temporary license. I am now legal and licensed to drive. Watch out Britney. Now we have nothing in common but our ever-changing hair color.
