I wore fire engine red lipstick to work today. What else was I supposed to do? In what other capacity can I be rebellious these days? In college, edgy meant people would talk. In real life, edgy means layoff…
If I was a sport, I would be racketball: spontaneous, frustrating, and painful if you don’t know how to handle me. During a recent meeting with common sense, I was encouraged to put away my rackets in exchange for a tight-rope. To my dismay, balancing is a hard act. I hold my breath and attempt to channel all my energy into the task at hand: survival. I don’t want to fall and crack my head open. Unfortunately, patience and I were never good friends . As some of my peers run across their tight ropes in wheelbarrows, blindfolded, or riding bikes, it takes every ounce of that goodness mama instilled in me to refrain from pushing them off into the caverns below.
I’m wearing swimmies in this pool and using bumpers in this bowling alley. I’m “that” girl, the one wearing a neon Barbie helmet with matching elbow and knee pads. Usually I would resist these aids, but I don’t want to drown, throw my ball into my neighbor’s lane or scratch up my knees. Oh sweet humility…
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