Upgrade.

In middle school, my schoolmates called me 'Pippi Long-stalking" because I always wore my hair in braids, wore glasses, and had a lanky frame.

The middle school students I tutor now call me 'Ms. Beyonce'.



Boom, puberty win.

Big Brown Eyes

I'm a volunteer tutor for a local middle school.  It's a rowdy bunch of 6th graders from the city.  They're good kids.


Today in the main room where study hall is held, two girls are chasing each other squealing and play-hitting each other.  I draw the line when one almost falls while the other climbs across the furniture. I sound like any mom or teacher or adult authority you can remember from your earlier days. (I feel less down and more uptight.)

I think to myself, "this is better than birth control." as I rub my temples.  The room quiets down when the school's director shows and apparently pulls the two girls aside and verbally reprimands them in the hall. I remain in the class room with my hands full.

Upon his return, the director kindly asks if I would go to the locker area for any stragglers as everyone, faculty and students, need to leave together.

I find one, she comes up to just below my shoulders. She's going to be tall in a few years, but for now she is still very much rockin' a baby face and a budding adolescent frame.
I look down to acknoweldge her, thinking she'll blow past me to join her friends in the other room, as I take a step in an opposing direction from where I thought she was going, only to have her change directing with me. I shift my weight back, thinking I am in her way, only to notice her take the same shift.

It dawns on me: she's following me. Her big brown eyes are fixed on my face.  She's ringing her hands out of nervousness. Nervous not for any one specific reason, I'm sure, just nervous because she's in that awkward stage where life presents you with challenges (and school work) and you have to muscle your way through from childhood to adulthood while everything changes around you (and no one can explain why besides saying "that's life.").  And those big brown eyes of hers are looking to me for a little guidance.

Because I have everything figured out. (And she's completely unaware of this blog.)

So with a smile (and a large sense of responsiblity), I ask her how's she's been since I haven't been able to speak to her since I started tutoring last month.  She responds, still looking at me like I have the secrets to success and I'm just about to instill this knowledge in her developing mind. I slow my pace and keep up with hers. We walk together as I listen to what the person behind those big brown eyes has to say.

Easy Calorie Burn

Without actually going to a gym or popping in a workout tape (NB: if you do not get the "video tape" reference, then you are WAY too young to read my blog. Please unsubscribe, delete your browser history, and I'll see you in 5 to 10 years. Thank you.), the most calorie burning activities in your day to day life are 1) housekeeping and 2) sex.











                  I am unfortunately too lazy for both.
                                                                           And so Ben&Jerry's it is...

Insanity

As it's defined by Albert Estein is "doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results."



So my romantic decisions define insanity.








                                                                                                                          Crap.

Friendly Competition

Friend 1: Let's face it, out of the three of us, she has the hottest body.

Me: Anybody mind if I do this?

Friend 2: Go for it.

Me: [Stands up and does victory dance.]

Franken-boyfriend

It would be amazing to find a composite of the men I've been romantically involved with over, we'll say, the last 15 years of dating.

A bit of that guys romanticism, his sense of humor and good looks, the other guy's height, his swag, his bank account, the other one's willingness to blow that account on me, etc.


*Sigh*

You don't text message breakup

Ok,

Sometimes you do.

                                                          Like when it's pretty obvious you were only a play thing.


Annnnd he didn't play well.



Then it's ok. Easier. Cost effect.  Why pretend like there was anything more there than feigned false
                                                                 hope?
(Yes, I'll admit, I was hoping you'd secretly be in love with me...I could use the ego boost. On the other hand, I hoped not because then that reconfirms my fear that all I can attract is pond scum.)


Exactly. So, once more, if it's just a booty call. And break up text is just fine.

                                                             


                                                                                                                   Ok. Good talk.