School Days

As I sit here on the night before the first day of school, I remember my first days of school.  I remember being so excited when my bffs were both in my 3rd grade class.  I remember the thrill of driving to school on the first day of my junior year in high school because I had finally gotten my license two weeks prior.  My first day of my sophomore year in college was remarkable because I wore my ADPi letters with such pride.  I remember that I wore black on the first day of school every year that I taught.  (Coincidence?  Doubtful.)  I have always loved the first day of school.  I'm THAT kid.  I'm THAT mom.  Even so, there is one first day that stands out above the rest...my very first day at Texas A&M.

First day outfits are important.  I can remember what I've worn on the first day of school every single year from 1st grade until my last year of teaching.  (I can't remember why I went into the other room, but whatever.)  My first day in Aggieland was no exception.  I had chosen the perfect black baby-doll dress with maroon flowers, black sandals, and the most glorious gigantic maroon bow.  (It was 1994. Give me a break.)  What you also need to know is that my mom, God bless her, always gave me lucky panties for big events.  For my first day at A&M?  You guessed it!  Maroon satin panties!  I took the bus to West Campus, and as I was walking towards my first class in Kleburg  I felt so much confidence, so much pride, so much excitement, so much breeze.  HOLD UP!  Breeze?  Yes, breeze.  Across my behind.  The entire back of my dress was tucked up under my backpack.  It seems the rest of West Campus got to see my lucky panties, too.  Well, shit.

Time for my next class on Main Campus.  It was pouring rain, so I was very thankful that I had my trusty maroon umbrella.  Too bad I got freaking lost on my way to the Psychology building.  I ended up over by Blocker and didn't get to the Psyc building until 30 minutes AFTER class had started.  Now, let's pause for a minute.  A normal, rational, person would have said, "Screw this, I'll go Wednesday."  But I never said I was normal or rational.  Pause over.  I barge into the class of 350 students looking like a drowned rat, my big bow was about as perky as a deflated hot-air balloon, and there was one seat open in the entire auditorium.  It was in the front freaking row.  Awesome!  This day just keeps getting better!  It was at this very moment the professor says, "If you plan to be late, you can plan to fail.  Don't bother coming at all."  Neat-o!  He noticed me!!  I suffer through the remainder of class and decide that I need to apologize to him.  I introduced myself and apologized profusely for arriving late, and then as I was telling him I got lost he says, "Maybe you should learn to read a map."  Maybe I should just drop your class, Asshat.  Which is exactly what I did, but before that I felt the need to reward myself for making it though my first day of college (translation: eat my feelings) with some FroYo in the MSC!!!  

I was so turned around and so lost from my trek across campus earlier that I ended up getting on the bus that I KNEW would drop me off behind the MSC.  God bless those Fish Camp counselors.  My DG leader always said, "If you get lost, just get on the Hullaballoo bus.  It will drop you off behind the MSC and you can get anywhere from there."  Well, I'm the dipshit that didn't realize you can see the MSC from the back door of the Psychology building, so I took an unnecessary bus ride, but it gave me more time to feel sorry for myself.  ***Do you remember the mention that it had rained earlier?  It had stopped by now but the streets were still wet, causing wet steps on the bus.***  The bus pulled up behind the MSC, right in front of Simpson Drill Field.  The Aggie Fish Drill Team was lined up and about to practice.  I was so interested in what they were doing that I didn't pay attention to the first very wet step.  I slipped, landed on my back, on the ground with my legs over my head.  I mooned the entire Fish Drill Team.  My lucky panties were getting more action on the first day of class than I got that entire semester.

I skipped the froyo and went straight for the Blue Bell.  I got to my dorm and immediately called my mom.  She would comfort me and make me feel better!  I was in tears telling her about my day.  I thought she was crying too, because she was quiet and sniffing....wait, she wasn't sniffing.  She was laughing her ass off!!!  She went to the first meeting of the Katy Aggie Moms Club that night and told them all the story about my first day at Texas A&M University.  Guess what?  They put it in the newsletter.  Guess what else?  I burned those damn panties.

Happy birthday to ME!!!

Well, kids, I won't lie to you.  I freaking love my birthday.  I really feel that it should be a national holiday.  I've refused to work or go to school on my birthday my entire life, which has luckily not been a problem since my birthday is in the middle of the summer and I chose a career in teaching, but whatever.  August 1 is my favorite day of the year.  I love it and so should you!

This particular birthday is remarkable because this year I am 37.  THIRTY-SEVEN.  Y'all, I really thought I'd have my shit together by the time I was this age, but I still feel as clueless as I did when I was 21.  Well, about most things, anyway.   My mother was diagnosed with breast cancer at the age of 37, and she died at the age of 42.   I know that I have some tiny element of control over what happens with my body.  What I haven't mentioned to you all yet is that I have been on a weight-loss journey for almost a year.  Since last Labor Day 2012 I am down 40 lbs.  I've always been a bigger girl.  I'm 5'10" and all legs.  Do you know how scarring it is to be the tallest, biggest kid in your class from 3rd through 6th grade?  Let me tell you, it will do a number on your self-esteem, and as you saw in one of my earlier posts, my fashion sense was a bit lacking.  In my mind I was like the weird girl in the movie "Sixteen Candles" but without the weird headgear and tiny Chinese boyfriend.  Also, I could sing, and I had friends.  Back to the weight-loss thing... I started running in February just to see if I could run a mile.  I initially had a goal of running a 5K before I turned 40 (along with growing my hair out long and getting my first bikini wax.  I'm pretty sure that last thing won't happen unless there is tequila involved, but I can wear a ponytail now). One mile turned into 4, and I ran my first half-marathon in  June.  I ran a 10K last weekend.  In September I'm registered for a 10 miler. In December and January I will run 2 more 1/2 marathons. There's this voice in the back of my head that keeps saying, "Just do one full marathon.  Just so you can say you did it."  No matter how much wine I give that mouthy bitch, she just won't shut up.  So, you guessed it.  In February I will run a full 26.2 miles.  

Luckily, I like fine wine.  No, wait.  I mean I'm like a fine wine.  I've gotten better with age. I appreciate the little things now a lot more than I did then.  I really appreciate the fact that I started this birthday with an early morning run for the first time in my entire life.   At 5:30 a.m.  In the dark.  Before the roosters woke up.  I appreciate a hand-written card.  I appreciate my 4 1/2 year old starting my day by saying "Happy burday!  Where's the cake?"  (Damn skippy, Clay!  Where was my cake at 6:30 a.m.?)  

It's ridiculous, I tell you.  I am training for a marathon, but I still haven't run a 5K.  Maybe I'll get around to it before I turn 40.  For now, I'll keep on keepin' on.  I'll keep cising my Jazzer with the most awesome ladies in Katy.  I'll keep running to not only clear my head and accomplish goals that once seemed so far out of reach, but to give me a better body than I had when I was in high school.  I'll keep eating right so that I can do those runs and have that body.  You can't eat crap and train for marathons.  Except when it's your birthday....