it:

A woman is a person, not a rib.

A woman is a person, not a unicorn.

A woman is a person, not the weaker sex.

On that day, the day of my thirty-second birthday, I realized my existential crisis. Everything was fine with me, I had already achieved the life that I had been striving for all my adult life. It's time to make your childhood dreams come true.

What did you want to be as a child? About two years?

You weren’t thinking about your husband, children, house, car back then. Have you thought about your vocation? About the role you will be happy in when you grow up. I’m not talking about a later age, when it’s already been explained to you what’s what.

I'm talking about two years, the first days of your speech and expression of thoughts into intelligible words.

Do you know who I wanted to be? Astronaut.

Then also an actress and writer.

See! Everything is very prosaic. Who among you hasn't wanted to be an astronaut, raise your hand!

Yeah, gotcha? Why should we all fly to the moon now?

Why not?

Nowadays, space flights have become a reality for ordinary citizens. Yes, the prices are fabulous and there are few volunteers, but it is possible.

Actress? Ugh, that's a piece of cake. You just have to work hard on yourself, endure criticism and break through.

Writer? Already.

What Wikipedia says about existential crisis.

An existential crisis is a state of anxiety, a feeling of deep psychological discomfort when questioning the meaning of existence. Most common in cultures where basic needs for survival have already been met.

Well, that is, you know, they got FUCKED. I can just hear the sarcasm of stand-up comedians on this topic. Like, why are you tired, children in Africa have nothing to eat? What meaning in life are you looking for when the air in India is dirtier than smoke?

These are wonderful words, especially from the lips of people who have realized themselves. They tell us folk morality from the stage, but are they sages?

Look, I'm not a promoter of psychological diagnoses, on the contrary, existential crisis be damned. Simply, if you are bored with the routine, if you are sad from constancy, if nothing else makes you happy and you are tired of living like this, then try my method.

Let me remind you, ask yourself what you wanted to be at two years old.

“President,” said my husband. “But I don’t want to now, God forbid.”

But they didn’t ask the boys, I’ll answer, picking my nose and trampling the sand under my sandal.

It’s easier for men; you have a little more chance and willpower to realize your desires.

Girls, women, girls, my dears, the only and main message that I convey throughout this book is -

“It’s being yourself. Be brave and move towards your dreams."

I’m now just on the way to them, I already have some experience behind me, but I’m still searching. And I'm moving towards my goals. I care, my life is clay from which will be what I mold.

Your clay is in your hands.

Create what seems ideal for you. Even if at first you decide that all this is nonsense, and there is no point in flying in the clouds. Just keep going.

Come with me. And a reward called “happiness” will definitely follow.

With love, Your Margarita.

PS: Due to the fact that I did not ask the majority for permission to publish their personal lives, all names in this book have been replaced. Sorry.