My answer to that is… shut up.

Welp… it’s been nearly 6 weeks since my surgery and I’ve finally gotten to where I can walk without crutches. This is a good thing because I have proven to be a questionable motorized cart driver.

A few weeks ago I was cleared to drive a car. That morning I dropped Penelope off at preschool for the first time in a month and was so excited about my newfound freedom that I decided a little trip to Target was in order. I figured I could grab a coffee and roll around the store looking at home decor.

I had, after all, spent an entire month watching HGTV. I had big plans for the house by the time my couch stint was over.

Once I got to Target I crutched my way into the store next to three other moms that I recognized from Penelope’s preschool. Not being part of the stay-at-home squad I shyly smiled at them acknowledging that I had just seen them… and that I was indeed still wearing my pajamas. Once I made it through the door I hobbled my way to my motorized grocery cart and headed toward Starbucks.

The next thing I new my granny cart was crashing into a mug display and I was being extricated from the rubble… I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

Ultimately, I opted for laughing even though I seriously contemplated the crying option. I joked it off with the employees, got my coffee and scootered my way away from the scene as fast as I could. Unfortunately the cart only had one speed… painstakingly slow.

This may cause you to ask how I managed to crash if my cart was so slow. My answer to that is… shut up.

I slowly made my way through the aisles of the store alternately cursing myself and laughing at myself for the scene I had caused at the front of the store. (I’m sure I looked quite manic.) As I scootered I kept running into one of the women from Penelope’s school. We would smile and carry on, until we bumped into each other again. Finally after ending up at the same spot in the store for the fifth time in a row she asked me if she could help me with anything.

I smiled at her and politely declined her offer, but told her about my mug display crash. She laughed with me and said, “I just had to ask. You are just the most joyful person I’ve seen in weeks.”

As soon as she said that I could feel the threat of tears rising up against me. Because joyful is that last thing I’ve been since going through this surgery and  I felt like a liar smiling at her the way that I was. I wanted to tell her so just to clear my conscious. But then again, I didn’t want to ruin her illusion and instead opted to smile even harder and thank her for her kind offer.

Slowly things are getting back to normal. A few weeks ago I started walking with crutches and then I graduated to one crutch. It didn’t take long to build my strength and before I knew it I was walking off without my crutches. I still have to have my leg locked straight, however.

The Thursday before I was scheduled to return to work I started to feel sick. By the time Monday rolled around and I had a full on cold. I thought I had reached the worst of it. But it only got worse. That Tuesday morning I woke up at 3 in the morning because I felt so awful. I made my coffee and cried in my chair as I waited for the day to begin. I couldn’t call in a substitute because I had been gone for so long. It wasn’t fair to my kids. Then to my surprise, we had a snow day.

I swore I heard angels singing when they made the announcement.

I returned to work the next day but my voice was giving out on me. By Thursday I had absolutely no voice. My poor students felt so bad for me. Every time I tried to tell them something they would answer me in a whisper and every time I dropped a crutch they scrambled to pick it up for me.

On Thursday afternoon I went to my family Dr. for my cold, but while I was there I had her take a look at the wound on my leg. Shortly after my surgery it had become apparent that I was allergic to the steristrips that they had used to close the bone deep cut. I kept developing blood blisters over my scar. Lately, it had been my main source of discomfort but I thought it would eventually go away. Unfortunately it didn’t.

Over the past week my physical therapist was becoming increasingly concerned with the way my leg was looking and wanted me to get it checked out anyway. As it turned out, under my nasty scab was a gaping wound which explained why it was oozing. (Yeah I know… gross!) It wasn’t healing properly due to the reaction I had to the strips. My family doctor called my surgeon and I had to take off of work on Friday and go in to see him.

(This is typically where I would insert a picture of my leg, but it’s gross so I’ve decided to spare you.)

Upon looking at my wound he decided that another surgery was in order to fix it. He said that there was a good chance that if my scab were to fall off I would be looking at the screws he had put into my leg. EEEW! What?!

My surgery is tomorrow. Wish me luck!

 

A More Effective Quitter

Oh hey… Guess what!

I’m not dead.

Honestly guys, I don’t know what happened. One minute I was stuffing jalepenos in my pants and the next thing I know it’s been nearly two months since my last blog post.

Some of you may not know but I’m a teacher and this year I’m teaching a new grade… again.

So mid-summer I started getting back to work. Since then it has been a juggling balance between spending time with my kids (because the working mommy guilt has set back in) and getting my job done. So the last two months have looked like this…

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There were several times within the past few weeks that I felt compelled to write a blog post. Every time I sat down to write one something else came up. My life has been absolute madness lately. Wildfire season kicked in right about the time that I started working again. Brent has had to work a ton of overtime to cover the guys who have headed out all over the country to fight the wild fires. This week alone he’s on a four day bender.

This blog is a pretty good measure of how much time I’m getting to myself. When I make my health (both mental and physical) a priority I write often. If I’m struggling with making myself a priority the blog suffers.

So… that’s what happened.

In the latter half of the summer I spent a lot of my “time off” moving into another classroom and planning my lessons. I felt guilty when I wasn’t out living it up dog days style, but then I would feel anxious and irresponsible for not preparing for the school year. After spending an afternoon in the classroom I just couldn’t bare to come home and sit in front of the computer to write a blog post while Penelope was begging for me to pay attention to her.

It just felt wrong.

Then school started and the madness really began because Brent was working and I was working…

I’ve been doing a fairly good job of cooking healthy food ahead of time so that I could have healthy lunches. I also rode my bike to school when I could and went for a few sunrise walks with my friend.

One time I actually took the initiative to wake up early and go to a spin class at 5 o’clock in the morning. That didn’t turn out so great…

I came to class pumped up and proud of myself for actually getting my ass out of bed. I positioned myself in the middle of the class where I could see the instructor but wasn’t up front and center. Five minutes into class a lady walked in and hopped on the bike in front of me. Apparently she was meeting a friend. The ladies chatted a bit while we did our warm ups and then they chatted a little louder when the music got louder and then even louder as they really got into what “Pissed them off!” The whole time peddling casually while I tried to listen to the instructor who was telling me to pump up the resistance. Every time the music got loud they got louder. Every time the instructor tried to tell us a witty story during the “down hill” portion they talked over her…

I looked around to see if I was the only one who was irritated by it. By the looks on the faces of the people around me I wasn’t. The instructor was looking at them and I was looking at her urging her to say something… but she didn’t.

Finally after 40 minutes of enduring it I snapped…

“EXCUSE ME!” I blurted out before I actually knew what was coming out of my mouth“Will you please stop talking?” I added in a calmer tone trying to makeup for the bitch that suddenly erupted from my body.

Both women looked back at me and then at each other like I was completely out of line.

“It’s annoying,” I added with finality.

They stopped talking for a while and the other spin class patrons gave me secret smiles glad that someone finally said something. I tried to ignore that it actually happened and get back to my work out but the ladies kept looking back at me and talking about me so that I would hear them in mean girl fashion.

I just stared at them every time they looked around at me all the while thinking, I’m a middle school teacher you can’t intimidate me, I confront assholes on a daily basis.

When class slowed down we were supposed to do stretches. They ignored the stretches the instructor prompted us to do and instead opted for stretches that gave them the opportunity to give me more dirty looks. Finally I had enough and said, “You know, I’m sorry if I came across as a bitch. It’s obvious that I’m not a hardcore athlete, but I woke up at 4:30 this morning to get my vagina murdered by this hard ass seat. And I didn’t do it so that I could hear you bitch about your ex husband.”

They turned around and left me alone the remainder of the time. And I came to the conclusion that it might be best if I didn’t do early morning group fitness…

Despite these efforts over the past few weeks, my pants are still tighter from being in survival mode last year. And they were tight the year prior to that from being in survival mode while I finished my master’s degree and did my student teaching.

I can’t spend my entire teaching career in survival mode while my pant sizes slowly creep up.

Since I’ve started working, my morning runs had slowly been replaced with morning lattes. And when I got home from work my workout clothes were replaced with pajama pants. The weight started to creep up five pounds at first, then ten, then… well, I don’t even know really.

At some point I’m going to have to start from scratch and post my weight with a picture. I haven’t done that yet for three reasons…

1. I’m pretty sure it’s going to hurt my feelings and I will ultimately punish myself for my slip in the health department by gaining another ten pounds.

2. Bridget used to be my before and after photographer. But I don’t feel like it’s a good idea to have her do that anymore since she’s gotten older. Girls are sensitive to these matters and I’m not sure I’m sending her a positive message by obsessing over my weight and then having her take pictures of it.

3. I’m afraid some weirdo is going to steal my before and after pictures again. In fact, I’m pretty sure my face is still lingering out there in google land pushing some weird diet pill. (Still creeped out by that by the way.)

In fact, I was tempted to stop blogging because of it.

BUT I can’t quit writing this blog. I haven’t finished what I’ve started…

I’m one of those people that always wants to quit when the going gets tough, but then I’ll change my mind and decide not to quit.

You could define this as tenacity, but I’m actually more sure that this is just another case of me not being able to follow through properly.

“I quit!… Ugh, nevermind.”

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I don’t know what it is, I just can’t stop trying even if I’m really bad at something.

For Example:

I’m horrible at spelling, yet I’ve earned the right as a Language Arts teacher to issue out spelling tests.

I was a terrible student growing up. In fact, I hated school. I quit college twice, once because I didn’t know what I wanted to be and another time to move to Colorado and get married… only to end up going a third time and finishing with a Master’s Degree.

I was a slow reader as a kid and had a hard time getting into books. My eyes used to twitch when I read. Now I’m known by name at all of the local bookstores within a 15 mile radius of my house because I’m obsessed with reading and known by many as a book nerd.

I’m a “weight loss blogger” whose pants are probably two sizes too tight…

Yeah…. we’ve gotta keep working on that one.

You know, life would be so much easier if I was a more effective quitter. OR maybe I’m just really attracted to contradictions.

So, what are we gonna do about it? I’ve seriously got to figure out the balance between life and work. (If you haven’t noticed yet, I’ve tried this several times.) I’m not just talking about balancing time between my students and my kids. That’s important but I’ve also got to throw in focusing on time with my husband, and focusing on myself and developing who I want to be. That’s four things that need to be up in the air at all times and I won’t rest until I learn how to balance them all.

My plan is to write a blog post at least once a week because this is how I check in with myself mentally. In fact, I kind of forget you guys are there sometimes. Hence, some of the awkward blog posts. (Sorry ’bout that.)

Actually losing weight takes focus and I’ve got to actually focus on it… even if I am SOOOOO tired of talking about it. Honestly, I would really like to quit writing this blog, but I can’t until I figure out how to not gain five pounds every time I’ve had a stressful day.

Until then, I guess you’re just kind of stuck listening to me describe the effort it takes to keep my thighs from eating my shorts. Good luck with that.

Typed While Snacking on Graham Crackers

Is it really Friday already? Where did the week go?

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We spent our Fourth of July in Breckenridge with family from out of town. Normally we just drive up for the parade and head back in the same day, but this time we all rented out condos and stayed for the weekend. Our first stop was at the fire station so that we could go on bucket rides on the ladder truck. (Perks of being married to a fire fighter.)

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We spent the rest of the weekend participating in the parade/ Independence day festivities…

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… and just simply enjoying the mountain town atmosphere and each other’s company.

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(Oh yeah, and the bubbles… you’re never too old for bubbles.)

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Unfortunately, Penelope came down with a fever and ended up puking all over our bed during our stay. By the time Monday rolled around the rest of us were coming down with Penelope’s cold. Our out of town family had already left so the girls and I dropped Brent off at work before having a breakfast picnic and heading back down the mountain.

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As we made our way down we descended into gloomy rainy weather that didn’t let up for three days solid.

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The temperatures were in the 60’s but it was a welcome reprieve since we all fell victim to Penelope’s cold. Soup was on the menu and snuggling/Netflix was the only thing on the agenda. With the weather being crappy I didn’t feel too guilty about it. When the clouds finally parted I made my way to the garden to see how it had faired while we were gone and was surprised to see that it had grown a ton in just a few short days!

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This is perfect timing because after enjoying all of the holiday fair my body was craving something straight from the ground.

(Typed while snacking on graham crackers.)

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I’m such a hypocrite…

It’s okay though, because I can feel my arm muscles twitch every time I shovel a cracker into my mouth due to an unusually hard yoga class in which I almost suffocated in my own boobs. But that’s a story for another day…

It’s here! It’s Really Here!

It’s here! It’s really, really here… Summer!

Last week Bridget and I took our last day of school photo to commemorate the occasion.

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(After we got into a fight over how short her last day of school shorts should be…. I won.)

I thought this day would never come. During Memorial Day weekend I ended up throwing my back out and was bed ridden, all dreams of frolicking in the sun were banished. I still had a week left of school to survive and I couldn’t even get off the toilet without screaming.

On that Saturday I had backed my car out of the garage to take Penelope for a bike ride. I had let her sit in the passenger seat for the ten foot journey because that’s a super awesome thing to do when you’re three. I tried to lower her out of my car while I was still seated and the next thing I knew both Penelope and I were on our hands and knees in the driveway. The twisting, lowering motion caused something in my lower back to shift and pop. I didn’t realize just how high up I was in my SUV and in one swift moment I ruined my life.

(Yes, that’s a bit melodramatic, but that was the thought that popped in my head as I watched an ant make its way toward my hand on the pavement, mocking me.)

I totally thought I was screwed for summer, but by Wednesday of my last week of school I felt just fine. (FALSE ALARM!) I was a little sore but I was walking normal, and I no longer looked like I was 98. And thankfully I didn’t have to endure grunting every time I moved in front of a room full of middle schoolers. At this point, I didn’t really have time to think about all of the things I was going to do when I was free for summer, I was still swept up in the hustle and bustle of ending the school year.  Summer still felt like a distant dream.

Then Friday came around and I found myself standing in my empty classroom with nothing left to do. For the first time in ten months I allowed myself to take a deep breath.

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I did it… I survived my first year of teaching!

It wasn’t until yesterday rolled around that it really hit me. It was Sunday and I didn’t have to scramble to get everything done in preparation of  the next week. It was true… I was free!

For the first time I actually took a long hard look at myself. My once taught legs are speckled with cellulite (a new development) and I’m soft, flabby and pale. I looked over at my kids and somehow they look older. Where have I been?

I’ve been so focused on surviving my first year of teaching I’m afraid that I’ve forgotten to live. So many things have gone neglected. Sure, I was a great teacher who took really good care of her students. But somewhere along the way I stopped taking care of myself and so many little moments with my kids and my husband have been missed.

It hit me, I have a lot of catching up to do.

So I did what any self-conscious, flabby, pale 30-something would do. I put on my bathing suit…

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…and I went outside to play!

(Notice I didn’t take a picture of me in my bathing suit. Ha!)

So far we’ve gone on bike rides…

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have been hunting for frogs…

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we’ve picked our first home grown strawberries…

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and of course we’ve been gardening…

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So far we’re off to a great start. I’ve resumed my healthy eating schedule. I’ve marked every fun festival and free activity on my calendar. I’ve planned outdoor movie nights at my house. And I’ve arranged a summer job for Bridget walking an elderly neighbor’s dog.

I can’t quite run yet due to my back but I’m on a mission to find my muscles and a sense of balance before we return to school in the fall.

In the mean time, I plan on getting reacquainted with the blog and myself in the process. You can expect two to three blog posts a week. Just like the old days 😉 But as for now… I need to put on some sunblock in preparation for a bike ride to my friend’s house for a coffee date.

Have a great day everyone!

I Wanna Live In My Bathing Suit… Half Wedgie And All

Hi friends!

Sorry I haven’t written in a while… I just didn’t feel like it. Well, that isn’t true. I felt like writing, I just didn’t feel like writing about weight loss and the insecurities of a grown woman who struggles on a daily basis to keep her shit together.

Somewhere in between Saturday and Monday I lost the motivation… to do anything. I blame it on the rainy weather we had. Basically, I was just feeling a little burned out.  On Sunday, which would have been my selected blog posting day, I opted to watch Mary Poppins and drink red wine with my friend while she watched me do my laundry and potty train my child. That’s a good friend, you know 🙂 I did all of this for the sake of doing things the happy way.

I thought by the time Monday rolled around my motivation would return.

It didn’t.

I did what I had to do but I wasn’t really feeling it. It wasn’t until I saw the sun peek around the clouds that I pepped up again. On one particularly beautiful run I stumbled upon a gaggle of girls giggling and doing an impromptu dance in the middle of the park. So like any other creeper I took a picture because I secretly wanted to join them.

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(You always have to appreciate impromptu dancing when you see it.)

I didn’t really feel like running on that particular day, but the weather called for it so I felt obligated. But by Tuesday Stella Nina got her groove back one step at a time. It started with the running and then it escalated with sucking down my new favorite water concoction (frozen strawberries and half a lemon) and got even better when I started chowing down on this awesome  Kale and Brussels Sprout Salad.

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I’ve seriously eaten this four times in the past week. I also ate a handful of chocolate chips every night because… well, I needed wanted that too.

When I wasn’t busy fulfilling my familial obligations and job deadlines I was busy sniffing the lilac bushes and pining for the day that it would be appropriate for me to wear my bathing suit all day long and finish the book I’ve been writing.

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It’s a little juvenile fiction I’ve been working on for a while. It’s very Gidget meets Judy Blume.  It’s about a girl named Micah navigating her way through the summer between 6th grade and 7th grade.

Here is a little sampler-  (FYI Wichita Falls peeps, the pool scene takes place at Sea Blue.)

…I hurried and squeezed into my one-piece bathing suit because I couldn’t stand to see myself naked anymore. It was tight. I was definitely going to need to get a new one. It dug into my shoulders and gave me a perpetual wedgie. But I was dying to go swimming so I pulled on some shorts, grabbed a towel and headed out the door.

As soon as I stepped out of my air conditioned house I started to sweat. I had forgotten to put on deodorant that morning and instantly regretted it. I decided to go ahead and ride my bike because it was too late not to look like a dork in front of the kids in the neighborhood. I had two huge bandages on my elbows now and there was no turning back. Hey, at least I have high school to not be the ugly duckling anymore. I’ll just make my transformation then.

As I rode down the street the sounds of kids screaming, whistles blowing and music playing got louder. When I finally turned the corner I saw the pool overflowing with people. I started to get nervous about my bathing suit. I’d just have to stay in the water as much as possible to keep people from seeing me pick my constant wedgie. After riding my bike my bathing suit had now earned its way to thong status and I was glad that I was wearing shorts.

I walked up to the gated entrance and showed my card to the lifeguard sitting at the gate. There were a lot of kids there my age and I instantly felt self-conscious. I wanted to draw as little attention to myself as possible, so I chose to lay my towel down by the baby pool.

I quickly pulled my swimsuit out of my butt and took off my shorts. I was headed toward the big pool when I heard someone shout my name.

I looked and saw that girl, Megan, who had bandaged my arm earlier waving me over. She was sitting with two other girls who were wearing bikinis. They were sunbathing on their towels and were slathered with suntan oil.

“Come lay over here!” she yelled across the screaming toddlers bobbing around in the baby pool.

Great, I thought, just what I needed, to lie on my dirty towel next to girls who looked like they belonged in Cosmo Girl.

“Okay,” I said trying to smile but it turned out to be more of a grimace. I was pretty sure I looked more constipated than confident.

As I walked up the other two girls were looking at me a lot like Marissa Pete would look at me, like I was disgusting. I put my towel down next to Megan and sat down, which was a big mistake because I could feel my bathing suit shift in a half-wedge, revealing my right butt cheek. Luckily, I was sitting on it.

“Micah, this is my friend Ava,” she said pointing to a tan redhead wearing a pink bikini that tied at the sides. I didn’t even know you could be tan and redheaded at the same time.

“And this is Trish”, she said pointing to the other girl who had long light brown hair and wore lots of eye makeup. She gave a half smile and then turned toward Ava to show her a text message that she had received.

“So, how do your elbows feel?” Megan asked as she lounged gracefully on her towel.

“Oh, they’re fine,” I said, not wanting to talk about it.

“My mom got so mad at Keaton when she got back from the store and found out he nearly killed you. She’s decided to make your family dinner sometime as a welcome to the neighborhood type of thing. She said she’d like to meet your mom.”

“Oh,” I said, not wanting to mention the fact that I didn’t really have one.

“Hey Megan look at this?” Trish said as she handed Megan her cell phone.

Megan scrunched up her nose like she smelled something bad as she read the message. For a minute I thought it might be me, so I took a stealthy whiff of my armpit as I rested my arms on my knees.

“He wants to know if I’ll be in town on the fourth to watch the fireworks from the soccer field!”  Trish squeeled.

“You know what that means!” Ava screamed as she wrapped her arm around Trish’s head covering her mouth with her hand and pretending to make out with it.

“Seriously Trish, if you kiss my brother I’m going to puke.”

I felt my heart skip a beat.

“But he’s so hot!” Ava and Trish said in unison.

 Since I was a girl of few words who was sitting on an exposed butt cheek, I spent the next few minutes listening to Megan and her friends talk about their Fourth of July plans. It sounded like they were going to go to the carnival by the high school football stadium and then they were going to watch the fireworks on the soccer field. Apparently, the soccer field was the “make out spot” for middle school. That was, if you hung out there at night. The other two girls acted like they were professionals at kissing by the way they were talking about it.

It sucked sitting there listening to them. I wondered if I would be invited to come along. I was also a little nervous that they would ask me to come along. I didn’t know anything about kissing and I wasn’t so sure how I felt about it. Soon the conversation switched to face wash and lip gloss. It was at that point that I had had enough of the girl talk. It was scorching hot and I could feel the sweat drip down my back. I would have been in the pool first thing if I wasn’t sitting on a problem. I kept wondering how I could stand up without mooning the little kids behind me?

While the girls talked I nonchalantly tried to scoot my butt on my towel thinking the friction would shift my bathing suit back over where it belonged, but it had the opposite effect. Instead, I felt the left side slowly shifted over, exposing both cheeks. Ava looked over at me and I stopped, realizing I probably looked like a dog scratching his butt on the carpet.

Finally, I was so hot and sweaty and tired of listening to girls talk about girl stuff that I decided that I would rather show my butt to the world than to have to sit there for one more second. I stood up abruptly, and was aware that they all had stopped talking and were looking at me. Ignoring them I picked my wedgie, walked over to the edge of the pool and dove in.

I spent the next hour staying underwater for as long as I could. It made me think of all of the times I played Mermaid with my old best friend back when it was cool to act like a kid. I had stayed down there for so long that when my head popped through the water the lifeguard was staring at me. Maybe he thought I was drowning.

When I rubbed the water out of my eyes he smiled at me and said, “Hey that’s pretty good. How long do you think you can stay under?”

“I don’t know I’ve never counted.”

“Well, try to do it again and I’ll time you.”

“Okay,” I said, not really caring if he timed me or not.

So I went under again and let my hair swirl around my head listening to the muffled sounds of people talking over head and the gurgles of the bubbles as they slipped from my nostrils. Finally, when I came up I realized I had a small audience watching to see how long I had stayed under.

“She did it boys,” he said as he grinned down at me. “She broke the record.”

Some of the boys moaned and some of them cheered, but the only boy I was looking at was looking right back at me with sea green eyes and a slight smile on his face.

“You broke my record.”

“Sorry, I didn’t know it was a contest.”

“No it’s cool. I’ll just have to beat your record,” he said showing off his crooked grin with a smug look on his face.

“Yeah? And what makes you think you could do that?” I asked. Not knowing why I was running my mouth.

“Because you’re a girl and I can’t just sit here and let a girl beat me.”

“Aw yeah! That’s what I’m talking about buddy,” Josh said as he bumped his fat fist against Luke’s.

That did it. I just glared at him. Yeah, Luke was cute and he made my heart flutter but he was really getting on my nerves.

“Let’s do it now.” I said, feeling the determination to beat him bubbling over. I looked over at the life guard and asked, “Can you time us?”

“Sure,” he said with a smile, “Good luck buddy, she’s good.”

Luke jumped in the water and then splashed me in the face. On the count of three we both went under to see who could hold their breath the longest. Staying underwater with him there with me wasn’t as comfortable as it was before when I was by myself. I was having a hard time breathing above water when he was around, so holding my breath underwater felt almost impossible.

I opened my eyes underwater feeling the burn of the chlorine as it clouded my vision. I wanted to see if he was still there. He was and I was surprised to see that he was staring at me through the water. I didn’t know how much longer I could stay under but I couldn’t let him win. He was starting to wiggle when finally he broke the water and I came up right after him.

“Oh, she beat you!” I could hear the other boys say.

Without looking at me Luke hoisted himself up over the edge of the pool.

A kid wearing goggles that pushed his nose up to look like a pig snout pointed his finger in Luke’s face. “Ha! Ha! You got beat by a girl!”

“Shut up Keaton,” Luke said as he shoved his little brother into the water. Then he looked down at me and smirked.

“I think you lost something,” he said pointing to the water.

I looked down to see one of my bloody bandages floating in front of me.

“Oh sick! It’s probably her pad!” laughed Josh.

I grabbed it as fast as I could and started to swim to the shallow end before my face turned red. I tried not to look up at them but I couldn’t help it and I looked up just in time to see Luke turn his head and wink at me.

“We’ll see you tomorrow Micah,” he grinned, “same time, same place.” And then he strutted off with his friends while I watched him walk away.