Synchronized swimming is just freakish, yet I can't turn away.
Classes have begun, which means that my life will tornado-like until the middle of September. We usually have the new routine under control by then. Now, however, it's a little wonky.
In the midst of the wonk, my Secret Pal struck again. Thanks Secret Pal! Pictures on the 'morrow.
This week's Friday Five left me scratching my head, simply because I can really only think of one item that wold be on my list. The question, via Mr Violent:
ou've been given the choice of having 5 memories removed from the world's collective memories. If you forget them, it will be as if they never happened. Which 5 do you choose?
While there have been plenty of things that, at the time, I wish I could wipe from the world's collective memories, in hindsight, they are really all things that we also "character-building," as cliched as that phrase is. There is one, tho.
When I was in high school, I did a lot of summer stock theatre. And, like clockwork, I developed a crush on one of the guys I worked with. My last summer it was Dave Brzozowski, who, I think, has now gone on to a brilliant career in graphic design. He was a few years older and in college. We kept in touch for a bit. I knew the crush was always only on my side, but he is a good guy and humored me.
Eventually, tho, entropy took over and we lost touch. It happens.
I did, however, have to chance to see him again about a year later. He came in to town to visit someone and a bunch of us summer stockers met up at a Dennys. During the intervening year, I'd gained *a lot* of weight, like 50-60 pounds on an already packed frame. (It wasn't a good year and my teen angst was soothed by chocolate and donuts.) So here I am, having coffee with this guy a still harbor a secret thing for, and I drop a spoon. When I bend over to get it, the inseams (note plural) of my pants split.
I am, logically, mortified. Now, of course, I could probably laugh it off and move on. Then, I tried to pretend it hadn't happened at all, blushing furiously and trying to figure out how to get out of the restaurant without standing up. Even thinking about it now, I want to just *die.*
I'd like to say that that moment was some great watershed, where I decided to develop my body to resemble that of Tyra Banks. I'd also like to say that I just solved cold fusion.
For the record, I can say that I've lost all that weight plus more besides. It had more to do with moving out of my mother's house than with the mortification of obesity, still, the end result should count, I think. It's also not something that I tend to think about anymore, for the most part. Life's too short to worry about those last 20 pounds.
That moment, tho, needs to be deleted.