When I want, and how I want.
I have actually said this to my parents on numerous occasions. Never in a serious tone (I would cease to be alive to type this out if I had – goodness can you imagine?!) Almost as far back as I can remember I have been a sassy being. I think it comes from being raised on TV shows like The Gilmore Girls and Friends.
I was having a flashback moment in my brain this morning and thought I’d share it all with you. *cue flashback music*
I’m in grade 8 gym class hating my life. How many of you can relate to that? I lived in this small town and I was literally the only fat girl in my class. I had the exact same classmates from kindergarten all the way up to grade 8. It was a K-8 school of no more than 250 students. We moved there in the middle of senior kindergarten and left the fall of grade 8 (the first day at my new school was Halloween. I had to re-meet everyone on November 1st – awkward).
So my grade 8 teacher was this horrible woman. She took no joy in her job or, from what 12-year-old me could ascertain, her life. She taught us every subject except for French, which was taken care of by an actual French person. Like from France. Unshaved armpits combined with white short-sleeve blouses and all! It was a very cultural experience.
This grade 8 teacher, liked to have us warm up for gym class which you should always do! You don’t want to pull a muscle or anything. Safety first, kids. Her idea of a “warm-up” was to have us run twice around a baseball field. For fat little me, this was torture! I hated it! So there was this little tractor lane between the school and this baseball field, which had a row of trees along two of the edges. We were to start from the tree line, run on the outside of the bleachers on both sides, and then the far side of the tree line (which was on the other side of the track for track and field) to complete the square. And we were supposed to do this twice.
omg omg omg I actually found the field on google!! This is the site of my defeat…ooo so much hatred for this little patch of land!
Ok, so I would be able to actually run from the tree line to right behind home plate there in the picture once before I would be out of breath. So then I would walk a little bit and then jog and then walk and then jog. Clearly not trying to give up but also not really caring about anything other than the horrible burning in my lungs and the stitch in my side.
But this one day, I decided I had had enough! I didn’t care about holding up the rest of the class. See, we wouldn’t be able to move onto anything else until every single student ran around twice. There was no time limit, just everyone had to do it twice. And I was always the last student.
That day, my sass level broke. It literally hit its limit and was like “be sassy T!! BE SASSY!!!” and I had to listen to it. Up to that point in my life, I was the good student. The quiet, respectful, well-behaved student.
So here I am, the little 12-year-old fattie that was me, I started off running until I wanted to die (home plate as always) and then I just walked. I was already last so I just walked. It was a little speed walk waddle, but still a walk. Then, I got to the last side of the square, along the tree line, and only a few people were left finishing up their second trip around the field. All the fast people were sitting there were like “wooo go, T, run! Run!” Trying to be “supportive” to make me go faster so that we could play whatever stupid game the teacher had decided for us that day (I’m pretty sure it was soccer baseball).
But I just kept walking. I think at that point, I had actually slowed down to a jaunt. Slowly swinging my arms as I leisurely strolled passed the rest of my class sitting under the trees. Giggling to myself as my brain hatched its evil plan.
Then the teacher decided that she would send out a few of the fastest runners to do an extra lap to “encourage” me to finish quicker. HA! Little did she know that the stubborn meter had broken and was now in overload. I slowed my speed down. Enjoying the nice late September air as I took my sweet time on that second lap.
I’m pretty sure the class was normally done this exercise after about 5 minutes. Even with me being the last one. That day, it took at least a solid 10. Cutting into the play time for the rest of the class. It was a triumph for me personally, I felt I was sticking it to the man. And I’m sure I was, in my own little way.
But from that day forward, that sweet little fat girl was broken. And in her place there came this amazing sassy and sarcastic person you all know and (hopefully) love today. Well done baby Giggling Fattie. Well done!