I was not a cheerleader.
I'll give you a second to process that shocking bit of news.
I wasn't on the Homecoming Court, and in fact, had to scramble quite often (and at times without success) for a date to the dance.
In fact, sidebar for a second. The night we got married, Matt and his groomsmen all went outside to have a celebratory whiskey and cigar at the reception, and I remained on the dance floor, because, QED, I like the night life, I've got to boogie. Well, the band started playing Easy Like Sunday Morning by the Commodores, and I found myself on the edge of the dance floor, with a slow song and no partner. ME! The woman in the big white dress. Tell me that didn't stand out like a sore thumb!
I had a profound revelation then and there that marriage is no guarantee that you won't find yourself in such a predicament from time to time. I probably stood there all of 20 seconds feeling awkward when one of my parents' neighbors took pity on me, but it was still long enough to recognize the poignancy of it all; that white dress, ceremony, and new last name didn't change the fundamental fact that sometimes, you're in this world all by yourself. And that saying the magic words is no iron-clad proof against loneliness.
End of sidebar. We'll come back to that some day, but let it marinate.
So, ok, I was not a cheerleader.
I knew some cheerleaders - they were nice girls, and whatever, whatever... we're all nearly 40 now with kids and careers. While the pom-poms and short skirts were kind of a big deal back then, we put away our childish things and etc.
But the thing is, megaphone or no, I have actually turned into a cheerleader.
And sometimes, I wish I could turn that megaphone toward me and give myself a "Win one for the Gipper" pep-rally.
Back late last year, at Weight Watchers, a fellow member was discouraged, and I gave her a tiny piece of throw-away advice, which was that although the whole goal seems huge, you have to step back and enjoy the journey. I believe this, by the way - but it sounds so trite, that even as I said it, I was like "Yeah, that and $2 will get you a bus ride downtown"...
But she remembered it, it meant something to her and she's repeated it often. And she has gone on to kick some serious ass.
I wish I had someone saying those things to me.
Maybe they are and I'm not listening.
Frustrating weigh in this week, which I knew going into it. In fact, I had planned to skip it, but one of my friends... one of my cheerleaders, I guess, told me to have a good meeting as we were leaving the office.
Shamed me into going. Shame, guilt, fear and vanity are the best motivators, no?
Maybe I do have cheerleaders. Maybe I haven't been paying attention.
I'll give you a second to process that shocking bit of news.
I wasn't on the Homecoming Court, and in fact, had to scramble quite often (and at times without success) for a date to the dance.
In fact, sidebar for a second. The night we got married, Matt and his groomsmen all went outside to have a celebratory whiskey and cigar at the reception, and I remained on the dance floor, because, QED, I like the night life, I've got to boogie. Well, the band started playing Easy Like Sunday Morning by the Commodores, and I found myself on the edge of the dance floor, with a slow song and no partner. ME! The woman in the big white dress. Tell me that didn't stand out like a sore thumb!
I had a profound revelation then and there that marriage is no guarantee that you won't find yourself in such a predicament from time to time. I probably stood there all of 20 seconds feeling awkward when one of my parents' neighbors took pity on me, but it was still long enough to recognize the poignancy of it all; that white dress, ceremony, and new last name didn't change the fundamental fact that sometimes, you're in this world all by yourself. And that saying the magic words is no iron-clad proof against loneliness.
End of sidebar. We'll come back to that some day, but let it marinate.
So, ok, I was not a cheerleader.
I knew some cheerleaders - they were nice girls, and whatever, whatever... we're all nearly 40 now with kids and careers. While the pom-poms and short skirts were kind of a big deal back then, we put away our childish things and etc.
But the thing is, megaphone or no, I have actually turned into a cheerleader.
And sometimes, I wish I could turn that megaphone toward me and give myself a "Win one for the Gipper" pep-rally.
Back late last year, at Weight Watchers, a fellow member was discouraged, and I gave her a tiny piece of throw-away advice, which was that although the whole goal seems huge, you have to step back and enjoy the journey. I believe this, by the way - but it sounds so trite, that even as I said it, I was like "Yeah, that and $2 will get you a bus ride downtown"...
But she remembered it, it meant something to her and she's repeated it often. And she has gone on to kick some serious ass.
I wish I had someone saying those things to me.
Maybe they are and I'm not listening.
Frustrating weigh in this week, which I knew going into it. In fact, I had planned to skip it, but one of my friends... one of my cheerleaders, I guess, told me to have a good meeting as we were leaving the office.
Shamed me into going. Shame, guilt, fear and vanity are the best motivators, no?
Maybe I do have cheerleaders. Maybe I haven't been paying attention.
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