Yesterday something massive happened. It was a huge step toward college.
I bought a pair of shoes.
This doesn’t sound much, but it was the meaning behind the shoes. They were not ostentatious shoes or outrageous shoes. Instead, they were a pair of very simple black flats.
They fulfill my fantasy of trotting off to the Union for a cup of coffee in October, surrounded by fall foliage in my flats. Granted, coffee makes me gag and I really don’t trot, but that can be remedied, right?
Or my fantasy of heading down to Ashley’s Pub on a whim to grab a bite. This is also likely going to only ever be a fantasy; the last time I saw the place it was packed and that many people in such a small place induces mild claustrophobia.
Hey, zero out of two ain’t bad, right?
So I was getting the shoes with Fabulosity. In fact, I was shopping with Fabulosity. I had never had the opportunity to shop with him before; we aren’t exactly living in a shopping mecca. So we went shopping at a pretty good mall about an hour away. It was incredibly fun; he taught me how to truly shop and pulled me out of my shell. I found glitter. And I found the amazing previously mentioned black flats.
I should probably mention something here, in case there’s any confusion as to why I didn’t know glitter. My clothing style is like yo’ grandma. The saleslady at Talbots knows me on a first-name basis. I got all excited when I found out Julianne Moore did a spread for their catalog. If I’m not wearing Talbots, I’m wearing Lands’ End. My wardrobe is not exciting.
I like to think it leaves all the interesting stuff on the inside, but the fact is, there’s not much interesting in here either. There’s a brain. And a spinal cord. And some phalanges. And an itsy bitsy vomer. (That’s a bone in my nose.) Just your standard stuff.
So I made a big step. I got shoes. I branched out. (It’s about time; I have orientation in less than 72 hours.)
Fabulosity also gave me some very valid insight. He told me, in his way, that nobody puts quotes around colloquialisms. He had read my Facebook status and was very, er, miffed that I had told everybody that I was going to be “hanging out” with him. It was the quotes he had the problem with. I use quotes around colloquialisms I am unfamiliar with using so I can check my context later and make sure I used them right.
I came close to living under a rock for quite a long time. Yes, I am a nerd. Yes, I am rectifying it. I already have taken care of some of it, thanks to Fabulosity.
Another thanks-to-Fabulosity moment: convincing me that I would survive the whirly ride.
There was a mini fair set up outside the mall. It was like a weekend thing and there were about a dozen rides. The proceeds seemed to be benefitting some local charity or hospital. I wanted to ride a daring ride. I wanted to be reckless and crazy. Plus, I was too embarrassed to take the kiddie roller coaster.
Reckless and crazy turned out to be a small version of a troika (not the horse version), which, from a distance didn’t appear to be going that fast. We climbed in. We were strapped in.
And then my memories of my elementary school’s fair came flooding back to me and I started to panic. I had ridden an extremely scary ride there, one that still gives me nightmares sometimes. We had been strapped in a similar fashion for it.
I started to hyperventilate, which is the first step for me towards panic-attacking.
“Get yourself together!” Fabulosity demanded. “I don’t want to be involved with your panic attack!”
He assured me I would be fine, that the ride would be fine. I told him I would just close my eyes.
“You do that.”
And, guess what? I absolutely loved the ride. It went so fast but I wasn’t scared in the slightest. We did it again. And again.
Each time we did it I got dizzier and dizzier. Fabulosity had to keep me walking in a straight line to get out of the gate because I randomly would stagger from side to side. By the third time I was past dizzy and into nauseated, so it was a good idea to stop.
But that isn’t the point. The point is, I did something I was scared of. Not only did I do it, but I had so much fun. I conquered my inner chickenshit, if only for a moment. That’s what I have to keep doing, each day.
That’s the key.
Mental Notes: Find more glitter tops that aren’t slutty.