Years ago, exhausted by my mother's oyster and pearl analogy, I declared myself done with being an oyster and on to my well-deserved Life as a Pearl . It was a bold move. A claim I had no real authority to stake. But I was tired of being the oyster. Tired of that craw full of sand. Tired of being told that the only way I'd ever be a valuable gem was to suffer the endless slings and arrows of outrageous fortune. Or at the very least, to be deeply annoyed all the damn time. Now we all know the pearl life is just an illusion. It's your curated Insta pictures and your boastful holiday cards. Your color-coordinated outfits and your whirlwind romances. We know those things aren't real, but it doesn't stop us from looking at our real oysters and going: What's this garbage? Where's my pearl?! That's where I found myself this fall. Deeply annoyed and saying the word garbage a whole lot. OK. Maybe it was the F word. Or perhaps I was taking our Lord's n