i heart mimi

Last night, I changed out the wheels on my skates and took to the trail for some exercise. I took along my phone, my flip-flops, and my husband. He rode his bike with me while I skated, first as my pace car, and then my videographer. (For the record, I don’t recommend operating a video camera while riding a bike. Danger!)

The video he took was from behind, and let me just say now that nobody will ever see it. Ugh. My butt is a planet.

I don’t fall much at derby practice. I’m a decent enough skater that I just usually stay on my feet. Last night, I fell on my ghetto booty in the first three minutes. In front of a car full of teenagers, who died laughing. Oh well.

Once I conquered the sidewalk cracks, which tend to heave after a cold Midwest winter, I hit the smoother terrain of the trail, and it went pretty well. Until I hit that rock and did the worst stop, drop, and roll ever.

But overall it was a good experience. I have two new bruises. And one scrape on my leg. Oh, and my shoulder hurts a little. But that’s kind of the point. No pain, no gain, right?

The scariest part was feeling like I was a little out of control on downward slopes. Here’s a mental image. You take a panda bear. You put it on skates. Then you put in its path three or four other innocent panda bears that just want to enjoy the beautiful weather, but soon see that the skater panda is coming straight for them, so they must scream and dive out of her path. There is bloodshed. And crying. Skater panda wins.

OK. That was a lie. I didn’t actually collide with anyone. But I do look like a panda on skates. And I mean like Kung Fu Panda before he became all kung-fooey.

I did have the good sense to wear my safety gear, which is why I still have skin. I saw a handful of skaters in nothing but tank tops, shorts and skates. Not on your life. I enjoy not being covered in road rash.

Trail skating may take precedence over bike riding for me. Yes, it’s scary and stopping could be an issue. But I’m still feeling the workout today, and in places I want to work. My abdomen and butt felt the burn!

I will still mountain bike with my brother, however. How could I possibly give up the thrill of seeing him laugh hysterically when I fly over my handlebars and slam into a tree? It’s his favorite thing ever. I would never take that away from him.

I’m glad I joined a derby team. Despite the fact that my friend, who I encouraged to try derby, broke her leg in three places on Monday at practice and is having pins surgically inserted into her ankle tomorrow pretty much so her foot won’t fall off. Bad.

Nonetheless, I will do it as long as I’m able. It’s the funnest sport I’ve ever done, and clearly I can’t stop talking about it.

I’m a derby girl.

1 Comment | In: My Unsolicited Opinion | tags: Danger, Ghetto booty, Kung Fu Panda, Mountain bike, Pace car, Roller derby, Trail skating. | #

At roller derby practice tonight, our team captains sprung a skills assessment on the newbies. Time to see if all this practice is paying off.

I did this assessment several weeks ago, right after I started working out with the team. My performance was abysmal, and I was hoping tonight would be much more rewarding.

It started out poorly, when we were asked to do stops and falls, neither of which I’m great at. I can do a 180 spin on my feet and stop backward using my toe stops. But that’s not what they want. They teach us safe stops, and I’m just not good at them. I will keep practicing. They also want us to fall gracefully and safely. But since my main goal every time I put on my skates is to remain upright, I have trouble buying into the ‘throw yourself to the ground now’ theory. It just seems counterproductive. But I suppose it’s good to know how much it’s going to hurt when three girls plow you over, so fall I will.

The surprise of the evening was a drill I knew I would have to pass, but did not know I would be tested on this evening. To be allowed to play with the team (rather than just work on skills at practice and sell t-shirts at bouts), I have to skate 25 laps in five minutes. Yeah.

Back when I first read about this, I got out my calculator and determined that I would have to skate an average of one lap every 12 seconds to pass.

No way. My body is like dough in motion. Not even possible.

When we prepared tonight, they just told us to try and skate at 80-percent of our best. If we felt too winded after two minutes, we were probably skating too fast and would exhaust before finishing. Thankfully, one of the vets was skating with us, and her presence made me feel very calm. I started nice and easy, found some rhythm with the music, and put my head down and gave it my all. At 2:15 I was thinking, I might not make my laps, but I’ll be able to finish. That’s my goal today. Do not quit. As I continued to skate, I found I could get a lot of speed on the straightaways, and cruise the curves. It was working well. I found a zone and stayed there until the end. I lost count after 10 laps, and at the end was expecting to hear that I hit 16 or so.

My counter looked at me with a sad little frown and said “… 22 …”

WHAT? 22 out of 25 laps in five minutes?

Um. That’s fantastic. And far exceeds what I thought I could do.

As I was leaving, a couple of the testers said to me that they were going to pass me on endurance because I was so close. And I told them that I would prefer to not be passed until I make the actual goal. It wouldn’t be as satisfying to know that I almost did it, and someone did me a favor. Nope. I want this to be 100 percent determination and sweat and self respect. I love that my body is throbbing in pain and my knees keep buckling. Had I not skated 22 laps tonight, I would not be sitting here with ice packs on my joints as I type. This pain is good.

I’m stronger. I’m more flexible. My jeans size is going down. I have confidence. I am becoming a strategic thinker. I am making friends.

Thanks, roller derby.

4 Comments | In: My Unsolicited Opinion | tags: Falling, Knees, Laps, Pain, Roller derby, Self-respect, Skating, Stopping. | #

The soccer moms have hated me for 18 years.

That’s how long I’ve been a mom. And that’s how long the perfect moms with their perfect houses and perfect children and perfect cupcakes have been rejecting my ass.

I used to care. I used to try to get them to like me. To engage them in conversation and find things in common and make friends.

I have given up. It’s stupid.

After in-depth analysis, I have surmised that the first time around none of the soccer moms took me seriously because I was the step-mom. I didn’t labor for 26 hours per child, they never found nourishment at my breast. I wasn’t a real mom.

Oh yeah?

Well it’s a good thing I never had to comfort a child after a nightmare, or stay up all night monitoring a climbing fever. I’m glad I never had to talk a kid through first-day-of-school jitters, or hold down a tiny body that was unwillingly receiving a vaccination.

Whew. Good thing I’m just a step-mom.

All sarcasm aside, I just didn’t fit the mold. I’m not skinny. I don’t drink lattes. I don’t drive an SUV, wear designer labels, or live in a house that has me in debt up to my eyeballs. I just don’t freaking care what people think of me. And that’s my big problem. Or rather, their big problem.

Because, apparently, to be liked by the soccer moms, one must be judgmental, uptight, and impossible to get along with. Oh, and perfect in every way. And by perfect, I mean unhappy.

I don’t know how these women live these lives in which their children are in every activity know to man, and the only “family” time spent together is in a mini-van at the McDonald’s drive-thru. Dinner comes from a bag between soccer practice and dance class, and there is no time to talk because someone is always yelling, “Hurry up … we’re late!”

No thank you.

Call me lazy, but the pace of life I choose is one in which my child can come home from school and supremely chill out. She starts by retreating to her room for 45 minutes, and I honestly have no idea what she does up there. I leave her alone because I know she needs that time. Then she comes down and reads, does a few chores, and then starts pestering me for food. Sometimes there’s homework, sometimes there are ridiculous amounts of American Idol. There is almost never a fast-food dinner in the back seat of the car (which is not an SUV).

I’m stepping on toes here. I know I am. I don’t mean to. I’m really just pointing out that I have been rejected for ridiculous reasons. Because someone else needs to feel superior, and doesn’t want to be seen talking to the fat step-mom with a nose ring and a kid with Down syndrome.

It makes me mad.

The second time around (this time I’m the bio mom, which hasn’t helped at all), the moms have “accepted” my child and love to flash their big smiles when the kid with Down syndrome speaks in complete sentences. But they continue to snub me. They looooove my darling little girl, tell me how sweet and loving she is, and then walk away. They don’t ever invite us to do anything. Never. (Conversely, I don’t ask them to do anything with us — mostly because I don’t relate to them either, and no longer want to try).

I have true friends that don’t care that I buy 70% of my kid’s clothes at Goodwill (which is where she got her kickass t-shirt collection), or that I have pink(ish) hair and play roller derby. I have real friends. I don’t need to be friends with these women simply because our kids go to school together.

So I just wanted to say out loud that I’m over it. It used to really upset me that the soccer moms don’t like me. Not any more. I think it’s funny, and I purposely make eye contact and say hello to them just to make them uncomfortable.

Perhaps it’s not very Christian of me to feel this way. I’m probably breaking a commandment or two. Most likely.

But I can’t find self-worth through the opinions of others. I must find it by being myself in every situation, no matter how I am received. I have spent 38 years trying to please others, hiding my real self because I didn’t fit the mold. Can’t do it another day.

Go ahead. Reject me. Life goes on.

12 Comments | In: My Unsolicited Opinion | tags: Cupcakes, Daughter, Down syndreom, Drive-thru, McDonald's, Nose pierced, Perfect, Pink hair, Roller derby, School, Self worth, Soccer mom, Soccer moms hate me. | #

“Did you fall yet?” asked the scary skater-girl with the lip ring.

“No! I haven’t fallen in four practices!” I said with pride.

“That’s a problem,” she said. “You’re afraid to fall.”

“Well, duh.” I kind of just stared at her at that point.

“If you’re afraid to fall, you’ll never be a confident skater. On Monday, you get to fall.”

“Okaaaaaay?”

“You need to skate with your head up. You need to be looking around you all the time. The minute I catch you not paying attention, I’m taking you down,” she said.

I like this girl. Girls like her are why I started playing roller derby. She has expectations of me. She wants to help me. Beating me down is her way of helping.

I’m touched.

On Monday, I plan to show up in padded shorts, and wearing those little dentist mirrors taped all over my helmet. I’m determined to know where she is every minute of practice.

But I have a feeling she’s not the real hitman. She’s just a decoy. Someone else is going to take me out, I’m just not sure who.

I can’t wait to find out.

1 Comment | In: My Unsolicited Opinion | tags: Decoy, Dentist mirrors, Fall, Hitman, Lip ring, Padded shorts, Roller derby, Skater girl. | #

Wow. It’s been 19 days since I last posted. And I’ve had my site offline under the guise that I was doing maintenance. By looking at the site, it’s clear no maintenance has been done. Same look, same content.

I really just needed some time to collect my thoughts. Deal with some stress. Decide if I’m brave enough to be a blogger.

I am.

Sometimes, life is painful. And the natural instinct is to go underground and hide out when pain hits. And that’s what I did in a sense. I just had to stop writing and let my brain function in a “freestyle” mode of sorts, rather than one that was always translating experiences into blog fodder. I also deleted my Twitter account (which is permanent folks — don’t do it if you don’t mean it!). Because (among a slew of other reasons) 140-character thinking was driving me nuts.

I needed to step back, take a deep breath, decide what to do.

So here’s a recap of the past 19 days:

I got a job offer. For a pretty good job — not in my field — that I’m certain I will like a lot. The demand for writers in my area is exceptionally low, so I feel lucky to have any job at this point. The compensation is good, and I will be working with my best friend — instant bonus.

I’ve been to six roller derby practices, and with each one I can feel myself improving. Other skaters are even seeing it. That helps me so much, and motivates me to work out on non-practice days. I am trying things I couldn’t do in the first couple of practices, and I’m about to buy my own skates. Rental skates are the devil, and they carry a special aroma we like to call “rink stink.”

Weight Watchers has been … interesting. I lost 3ish pounds my first week, and then found it all again my second week. But I’m blaming PMS and expect great results this coming Saturday. I’m doing surprisingly well with the “points system” and really like that I can eat the foods I like, as long as I count them and control portions. The exercise is an added bonus. I can feel the shape of my body changing — my husband even said last night that he can see it — so I suspect some muscle is replacing fat. ::crossing fingers::

Oh, and my kids are still amazing, as if you had to ask! My older daughter has joined derby with me, which is so special. We get to beat people up together. And my little one got suspended a couple of weeks ago for smacking her teacher across the face. That was challenging. But we’re dealing with the little hooligan. It’s hard not to laugh, just because she’s such a little badass. Derby-girl-in-training!

Anything else? Oh yeah. Costco’s dog food prices are amazing.

Later skaters!
Mimi