Warning: I tell you to die in this one because I’m so mean.

So, there’s a little issue going on in my life right now where everyone be hatin’. See, I’ve REALLY been wanting to try out for this certain type of team we have in town, but no one seems to believe I can handle it. They don’t think I have the skills. They don’t think I’m tough enough. They pretty much have been laughing at me all week and I cry into pillows.

That thing I want to do so badly? Roller Derby.

Now, if the mental image of my sissy little self trying to be all hardcore, yelling obscenities and throwing ‘bows makes you laugh, you can DIE. Just kidding, but stop laughing because I’m totally serious about this. I’ve been known to do some mean skating in my day, but only if you consider “couples skating” in 6th grade mean, because that’s really the only experience I’ve ever had with it.

Okay, let’s be real… I never even had a chance to couples skate with a boy because I was too shy and weird and had a lot of little 6th grade whore friends who stole all the cute ones. Moving on.

Justin thinks I’d have a difficult time on a Roller Derby team because I’d be apologizing to the other players if I accidentally bumped into them.  Bless his heart for thinking I’m too considerate for this type of badassery, but he can die too. I am mean, see?  That’s why my nickname in high school was “Mom”… because I’m so mean. And I apparently liked to give loving, motherly advice when people didn”t ask for it, but these are MINOR DETAILS. I could be mean if I wanted.

That's me. (I lied just now)

My point is, if everyone says I won’t be able to handle it… that I’m not tough enough (oooh, I hate that one)… that I’ll get “broken into pieces”… I’m more than stubborn enough to prove them all wrong.

And so I shall.

(If I die by the hand of an enraged, tattooed girl with fishnets, please make sure my daughter knows to always say her pleases and thank-yous.)