17th
lesson learned
Sometimes, just sometimes I wish I was different. There are certain days that I wish that I had taken dance classes when I was young instead of attending basketball camps. There are times when I wish that I had the desire or ability to pull off high heels or that I could even manage once to do more than brush my teeth before my nine thirty class. Then I attempt to leap out of my normal less than feminine habits and I am swiftly reminded that I will never ever be that kind of girl.
An example of one of those times was when I went to a dirty dancing class at my gym with a friend. Firstly, I arrived in my baggy shorts and t shirt only to realize that I had not been informed that the uniform was sports bra and stretchy pants or wife beater and booty shorts. Between my complete inability to swivel my hips in the same fashion as the ten girls in the front row, being a white girl with no rhythm or musicality, and the repeated air humping of the floor I quickly came to the conclusion that I would not be attending this class a second time. However, it was good to be reminded that no matter what my physical condition I’m never going to be someone who is comfortable or happy to be gyrating on a floor in bathing suit like attire while meatheads look on through the clear glass windows and pretend like they’re not really looking or flexing.
A more recent run in was yesterday. I spend five hours driving in my pajamas through gorgeous terrain with beautiful weather, listening to my favorite music and singing loudly with no one to hear. Tea next to me and sucking on those delicious vitamin c tablets for no real health reason, I was feeling good. And then I got to Vegas.
Firstly, I’d like to comment here on the stupidity of the female wardrobe. I so rarely get “gussied up” I forgot how painfully and ridiculously uncomfortable it is. I have blisters from wearing a shoe for three hours. How do people wear them daily? And why? Also whoever invented the strapless dress was probably someone who both knew the nipple may be revealed at any moment and found that amusing or exciting. I feel like unless I end up breast feeding the bosom is not made for utility. It is to sit there are look pretty I hope or don’t look pretty, either way, I don’t think it’s fair of me to suddenly require them to the be the anchor that is keeping me from public exposure, and doing a poor job at that.
Secondly, as I sat in a darkened room with one light ignoring the camera and “girl talking” with a complete stranger, I soon found myself wondering what in the name of everything holy was I doing? As she asked detailed questions about my feelings on attraction, black men, my inner bitch, and last but not least my personal sexuality, I found myself wondering, what happens to this video after it gets discarded? Who sees it before it does so? Why didn’t I think to give a fake name? How long til this is over? Am I really this innocent or are they just looking for people that scandalous?
And well, I learned my lesson I think. I learned that I’ll never feel comfortable in certain clothes, that I don’t enjoy talking to strangers while they talk to my chest, that I’m not the girl who gets picked to go on reality televison, I like my innocence. I’m more me in the car alone on a road trip than gallavanting around a casino, but I’m okay with that. I think I just needed a little reminder. All ends well.
